


The Legend of SOS-Con

by The_Fenspace_Collective



Category: Fenspace
Genre: Fenspace - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-12-07
Updated: 2006-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 46,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fenspace_Collective/pseuds/The_Fenspace_Collective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Date: 5 May 2012<br/>From: command@sos.co.jp (SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters)<br/>To: all-call@nation.fen<br/>Subj: CONVENTION!!!!</p><p>Note all fan: </p><p>We came empty here the earth of one thing of heart: Because you become the hero. Our hearts it echoes the dream of bravery in our centers, that is our obligations to those dreams fufill! Our 2 weeks of the group hearby call of SOS for splendid conference where that of heart and, at the place of Phobos it should you grasp from today. There we organize because because of the star you become the hero, start! </p><p>Everyone who obtains this message is invited. It has your boat and your story, do!</p><p>--SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**[Mal Fnord](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=S._Malaclypse_Fnord):**

We were goofing off around Saturn when the call first came in. Officially we were on the clock; a friend of a friend of a friend who worked for JPL had asked us to do a maintenance run on Cassini and take some HD movies of Titan for the enlightenment of the scientific community while we were at it. As a rule this wasn't the sort of thing we usually did, but a job's a job, it paid okay (considering the bitch of a currency conversion rate) and it was as good an excuse as any to spend three weeks out on the edge of the system. We'd canned the Titan footage and were in the process of getting a few candid shots of Cassini just for giggles when [Ptichka](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Ptichka)'s email server chimed.

It was the _ship's_ email, not one of our personal accounts, that meant it was something the Nation wanted to discuss. Nation email is always interesting to read; when you've got several thousand ships and several hundred habitats in the solar system representing twenty different fandoms plus maybe another six dozen independent ships  & stations comprising somewhere around a million people all told, and there's _one_ all-call mailing list that everybody's subscribed to... well. At times it can downright fucking _hilarious._

Anyway, I punched up the old laptop we'd crazy-glued into the control panel and took a look at whatever the Nation wanted to herd us into _this_ time. What I got was this:
    
    
    Date: 5 May 2012
    From: command@sos.co.jp (SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters)
    To: all-call@nation.fen
    Subj: CONVENTION!!!!
    
    Note all fan: 
    
    We came empty here the earth of one thing of heart: Because you become the 
    hero. Our hearts it echoes the dream of bravery in our centers, that is our 
    obligations to those dreams fufill! Our 2 weeks of the group hearby call of 
    SOS for splendid conference where that of heart and, at the place of Phobos
    it should you grasp from today. There we organize because because of the star 
    you become the hero, start! 
    
    Everyone who obtains this message is invited. It has your boat and your story, 
    do!
    
    --SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters!
    

From the message text, I could tell two things. First, somebody needed to shoot their machine translator before it could harm helpless verbiage again. Second, we were going to have to hit the inner system earlier than I'd previously thought.

Whoever "SOS Brigade Supreme Headquarters" were, they'd called a [Convention](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Convention), and out of season to boot. Conventions are serious business for Fen; since we moved off Earth, they've become sort of our United Nations. Every so often the movers, shakers and poseurs of the Nation get together, get drunk, get laid, exchange pleasant threats, debate the few issues that can't be handled inside our own little factions, make a few policy statements like "bow before our might, pathetic Earthlings!" and then go home with hangovers and some interesting blackmail material. So it's not entirely unlike mundane government.

The _point_ is, when somebody calls a Convention the major power players in the major fractions (along with free agents like us) _have_ to come out, hear what the organizer has to say and be civil to each other for a week or so. We're so scattered through the system that while Conventions might still happen once a year, actually getting to attend one instead of telepresencing it or watching the results on the news was a major event.

In this case, the SOS Brigade (whoever they were) had called for a Convention and had specifically invited _everybody_. Thankfully they wanted to use [Phobos](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Phobos); the Martians were using it as base camp for their terraforming ops, the place had been mostly hollowed out and there was plenty of room for everybody and their rides. What they were calling the Convention _for_ on the other hand... the machine translation fucked that up enough that I couldn't quite figure it out. Idly hoping that whoever was speaking at the con had better translators, I fired off a quick reply:
    
    
    From: ptichka@sovietairforce.fen (Soviet Air Force Central Committee)
    To: command@sos.co.jp
    Subj: Re: CONVENTION!!!!
    
    We'll be there with bells on. Will also bring booze from the Ringed Planet.
    --VVS
    

Figuring that should keep them happy, if confuse them a bit, I turned off the email client, opened the navicomp, set up a course for Phobos and turned on the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said in my best airline-pilot voice. "I'm afraid that our vacation around sunny, tropical Saturn has been cut short. We've been invited to a Convention at Phobos, so if you guys will pack up the cameras and make sure we've got enough booze to last us, we'll be on our way. Launch window in-" I glanced at the nav window "-one hour."


	2. Chapter 2

**[Katz Schroedinger](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Katz_Schroedinger):**

The proximity alert was ringing.

_Damnit._

Why does it always ring when I'm in the shower?

I shoved the coffin lid of the sonic shower open - I hate those things, but the _[Uncertainty](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Uncertainty)_ doesn't have room for a regular one, or a large enough water supply for that matter - yanking the amp plugs as I went along. It's annoying when your shower doubles as a sound system, and even more so when it starts ringing in the middle of taking a bath.

"Four-eyes, what the hell is it this time?!"

There is no such thing as a normal AI. Never has been, and as long as we don't try and make one the hard way, there likely won't be. As an example, the first registered artificial sentience was one owned by a Japanese Fan who used to set his laptop onto some handwavium and use it in lieu of a battery when he wanted to play his h-games. Guess what got Quickened?

Just one of the reasons why governments were still mostly poking and prodding at the stuff while whatever fen had gotten their hands on it ... weren't.

Though when the flatscreen monitor on the cabin's bow-wards wall flickered with an image from the mast-mounted camera I remembered exactly why I disliked staying in parking orbit around Earth these days.

_#Good morning, friend in God, can we interest you in an issue of the Watchtower?#_

I hit mute, and gave the white SUV displayed a glare.

"What're they fielding?" I asked after a moment, during which I grabbed and downed a mug of chilled mocha.

**"Pathetic. Baseliners, almost all the way. We shall feast on their blood!"**

"Uh-huh, Tee. Whatever. Give 'em an overcharge and hijack their sound system."

**"Conquest!"**

The relative motion indicator I'd cobbled together out of a rangefinder and laser pointer gave a fair reading that they'd stopped, and what I could make out through their windshield showed they didn't have a clue of what was going on after Tee hacked himself in through their navigational deflectors.

I hit my commo pannel, and slotted a flash drive labeled with various 'hazardous materials' warnings.

"Good morning, asshats. As a registered citizen of the [Principia Universalis](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Discordia#Principia_Universalis) I find your actions to be offensive and a violation to the Discordia Accords. This is your mandatory warning."

Then I hit the Big Red Button and made sure the camera was set to record onto storage, rather than to the usual void-buffer.

Stranded in space, because Tee was still holding their drive, the big white SUV sat and shuddered. Then the frantic armwaving started. Hmm. An hour or two of bombardment should do it. A blend of Barney, Fen reading Vogon poetry, and various other entertaining snippets was enough to convince even these guys to piss the hell off.

**"Burn, mortals! Burn in your pathetic shells! Bwhahahahaha! Suffer the fires of hell!"**

"Yeah, whatever," I grumbled, getting a grilled cheese sandwitch from null-storage. "Eh. Might as well check the agenda. What've I got on my planner today, [Trigon](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Trigon)?"

* * *

[Handwavium](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Handwavium) comes in all sorts of different shapes and sizes, ranging from simple black cubes to a weird sort of guacamole-like ooze.

What?

Yeah, once upon a blue moon an associate got drunk enough to think switching the stuff with our dip was a good idea. The less said about that and its results, the better, though for some reason I seem to have come out of it the way I'd been when I'd come in.

The chunk that I called my own above all others was sitting smugly underneath the _Uncertainty'_ s table, humming away softly as it fed the drive-sails and pretty much everything else on board that required power.

It really was amazing. Such a little thing, and so much potential ... some used it better than others, though.

Speaking of which ... I shot a look at the navigational holosphere - formerly a disco ball, now hanging from the cabin ceiling - and grinned.

Energy sails are nifty ... or, you know, for me anyway. I don't know if anybody else has gotten these results. They don't really allow for a lot in the way of maneuvering in the same way that the baseline handwavium gravitics do - changing their vector is a bitch and a half, for example - but for pure acceleration they're worth their weight in gold. Still, getting too close too anybody with them online is asking for trouble.

That's mainly why we didn't lift any old sailboat/freighter relic and try fitting it with those when [Hermes Universal Deliveries](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Hermes_Universal_Deliveries) was considering upscaling our little flotilla of associates with something that could carry bulk.

We were still mostly in the business of subcontracting those big jobs to people who've got the patience to maintain something big enough to pull them off, but we'd gotten our own hauler somewhere along the line.

And if I was reading the manifests right, it was heading for Phobos for some reason. I queried its Majordomo for a manifest, and found its cars loaded down with the sort of stuff you'd expect to be delivered for a ...

...

Oh, frag. I'd been wondering why I'd gotten so little mail in the past week.

"Trigon."

**"Hmph."**

"My mail. Now."

**"First, it's 'hold all communications'. Then, it's suddenly 'my mail'. Humans. Make up your damn minds, worms."**

Well, there it was. Huh. Been a while since I'd last gone to Convention, though seeing as this time I was at least heading in the right direction, more or less ...

Ah. Why not? There were no express deliveries going on that weren't being handled already.

I plotted the appropriate course adjustments into the 'helm', then reconsidered. I'd be there early if I really punched it, but what was I supposed to do with my time then? Terraforming wasn't really my cup of tea, you know.

Meh. Might as well try the long way around.

I hit the commo, and called up the space-train.

" _Uncertainty_ here. Hullo hullo, _[Galaxy Express](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Galaxy_Express_999)_. I'm reading you've got some free space on you. Mind giving me a piggyback ride to Phobos, [Maetel](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Maetel)?"

* * *

In most ways, the _Uncertainty_ was everything I could have hoped for. Small, nimble, capable of going veryveryfast and with just enough space there to cram in basic amenities and a bit of cargo. Alright, so it got cramped sometimes, but it was a lot better than a sedan where that was concerned.

And sure, my little nest egg the periodic cuts from Hermes made up meant I could basically trade up for something bigger in a perfectly legal way, but the boat had a bit of sentimental value as well.

Unfortunately, it _was_ a boat, and as such it was a bit iffy to land when most landing docks in Fenspace were little more than glorified parking lots.

It was hard to wrangle an actual docking slip for something of the _Uncertainty'_ s size - they were mostly there if one of the big movers decided to come a-calling - and I didn't like to resort to blackmail and threatening to withhold Dew deliveries on people to do so. That was the other, arguably bigger, reason as to why I was in the process of pulling a docking-in-transit with one of the two hangar-cars the _Express_ usually pulled along on pretty much any sort of job.

Mast and keel folded, the former telescoping down to a more manageable size, and after a few minutes worth of remembering just why I hated landings I had the converted pocket-cruiser and smallest existing energy-sail ship in Fenspace slipping into the hangar-car's _Catcher's Mitt_ class smallcraft docking unit.

And no, I couldn't just let Trigon do it. I'm borderline insane, not suicidal. Yes, his docking skills suck that badly.

Why do I keep him?

Eh. There's no really easy answer to that. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, or it's just that he keeps me on my toes ... nah. See, Trigon's almost as much of an ass as I can be, with positively diagnosed megalomaniac tendencies - if you believe the net's gaggle of psych tests floating around - being the least of his malfunctions, but he's the best weapon I've ever run across. Nothing else that doesn't run on a mainframe a few dozen meters long and appropriately wide can just reach out and _take_ systems out from under other people. That makes dealing with his quirks more managable, though most of the time the deal isn't quite as clear-cut as I make it sound.

Not that I don't need to get the occasional bit of rest from my so called 'partner'.

I shucked the VR headset and shoved it back into its alcove, doing the same for the manual controls - a couple of jury rigged trackballs and assorted scavenged components from video game controllers - told Four-eyes not to burn anything down, and depressurized cabin space, stepping out onto the ship's aft deck a moment later.

I made sure to check that the reason why I was so leery of leaving him along with the ship was still locked down.

It was.

Good.

Then I was too preoccupied with somebody pinning my arms down ...

... oh, right.

I made a mental note to no do the hermit thing for so long next time, because it took me a moment to register that it wasn't, in fact, an attack, but a hug.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Hunterminator:**

As yet another satisfied customer paid me, I kept hearing the amused chuckles coming from all over the Spaceport. I glowered at the various onlookers and marched back to the _Schrottplatz_. As I did though, I couldn't help glancing at my ship, and I had to admit that I understood their amusement, it was a sorry excuse for a ship, no matter how much Handwavium you coated it with.

The worst is that I never really had a choice about it. One day, a group of my drones had gotten tired of me telling them that we didn't have any room to install every single device they wanted to build. So they flew away with my car one evening while I was not looking, and when I saw it next, the front half proudly jutted out the front of a formerly shipwrecked freighter.

At least, I had room for a real bed now. I was also one of the few Fen that could be hired for large deliveries and the most competitive when it came to serious space construction jobs. It was also great for attracting passenger jobs, provided they could live with the fact that they would be travelling onboard a rusty freighter/car hybrid named scrap yard in German.

I had barely walked through the hatch that one of AllCaps' descendents spoke to me from the other end of the hold, easily audible over the noise of 5 drones welding what looked like a crane on the inside of the hull, "Boss, we just received an invitation to a convention, though well have to leave right now to make it in time."

I mentally calculated the supplies we would need for the travel and a quick check revealed that yes, we had everything we needed to leave immediately. I nodded and replied, "Ok, tell everyone to be ready for takeoff as soon as possible."

As I walked to the cockpit, I heard the AllCapist yelling the wake up call to the drone in charge of engineering, "Yo Gramps, wake up the engine. Boss says were leaving now."

The call echoed across most of the ship, and the various other AllCapist drones quickly became audible all over the ship, waking everyone up with their rather loud wake up calls. I looked around the cockpit, checking that everything was in order, and then steered towards my next destination.

* * *

"Yo boss! We're almost there."

I looked up and almost laughed in relief. No matter how much one likes to laugh, reading bad jokes and horrible puns to an engine gets boring fast. This is especially true if you're coming from the edge of a system and all the way to Phobos, which, because the _Schrottplatz_ is pretty much always dreadfully slow, takes a lot of time.

I gave the great big book of jokes and puns to Gramps and he continued reading from it, bursts of increased speed indicating when the engine was 'laughing'. I turned around and ran out and towards the cockpit praying that none of the drones had taken the initiative of hailing Phobos station yet. My prayers were for naught when I arrived and saw one of Penny's colleagues trying to sell someone "prime farming land on Pluto" over the communicator.

With a low growl, I pushed the drone back and whispered, "Stop that. I don't need to get another fine for clogging up the comm. channels."

I turned back to the over glorified handwaved radio we called a communicator, "Sorry about that." and cut the communication.

I then called Phobos station to notify them of our arrival and sat back for the wait.

* * *

Finally, after a few hours, we flew to our designated dock. We had barely landed that several drones ran out of the ship and started setting up kiosks. Of note were the Capitalistic Drones and their "Alcohol, snacks, and anything your heart might desire" stand with a pile of odds and ends behind it. There was also our 'official' stand, that is, the one that advertised our services.

A large part was dedicated to our expertise at construction of replicas, with pictures of our two most notable projects, the federation starbase replica in orbit of Pluto, and our 1/100 replica of an Imperial Star Destroyer. The stand was manned by a varied assortment of drones, including the 'trekkie' group and the stormtrooper drones.

Once I had conducted a quick review of that stand, I took a look around, and noticed a genuine pitchfork and torches mob. I was starting to wonder where the mob had found such antique equipment when I noticed a duo of my drones selling them to onlookers. I was in the process of stomping over to stop them when the crowd suddenly ran away from a psychotic nut job with a gun instead of a hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**[Ryoko Asakura](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Ryoko_Asakura):**

"MWAHAHAHA! Those FOOLS shall Tremble before the Power of SCIENCE!" Hollers my master at an unnecessary volume. He has been awake for over six weeks straight now, the insanity of choice this time seems to be usual monomania. I have no idea what he is working on this time, and frankly I don't care, as long as he is this focused on his work he won't notice me. As I sneak closer I do check that it doesn't look as if it's about to explode though, having learned that lesson from painful experience. Raising my combat knife I'm about to plunge it in his back when I hear the door open. Swiftly hiding the knife I turn around to see Miyu entering the room, carrying the bowl my master calls a coffee cup.

"Professor, your coffee is ready." Says Miyu in her precise, clipped voice.

"Hmm?" My master seemed to finally realize that there where other people in the room with him and takes his head out of the mess of wires he was working with. Unfortunately he doesn't release the wires leading into the engine and we all go flying to the rear bulkhead as the ship shudders and heaves under us. Of course I am the one getting coated with the scalding hot beverage, this is going to take forever to get out of my clothes. I glare at Miyu as she lands in a prefect crouch, while I'm on my ass and have the damn cup on my head.

"Whoops sorry about that., just a second." Says my master as he stands up end reaches for the open panel on the engine, fidels with something, and gravity promptly starts pointing in the right direction again, though this time I'm forewarned and land on my feet. My master though he should have known what was coming lies in an unconscious heap at my feet.

Sighing I lift him up and say "I'll bring him to the infirmary."

"No need I'll do it," says Miyu, helpful as ever, as she grabs his other side and starts to carry him too. "Why don't you go clean yourself up."

* * *

**[Miyu Glear](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Miyu):**

I barely managed to keep from glaring at Ryoko as we helped the Professor to the infirmary, wishing that blue haired goody two shoos would go away. First she wastes all my carefully poisoned coffee and now she refuses to leave us alone. Just one moment and I could punish him for taking me away from Alysa but she sticks with me until we reach the infirmary maintaining her cheerful demeanor the entire time, even though she is clearly worried about the Professor. Really it's just too hard to stay mad at the pseudo-girl, especially when she's wearing that oversized mug as a hat.

When we reached the infirmary Catty is already there, in a nurse outfit that I am sure didn't come with the ship. "I was expecting to see him in here when the gravity went crazy, what happened?"

"He was tinkering with the engines ranting about science as usual after the one week mark." Answerers Ryoko, "Well I have to take a shower and get this stuff of my clothes before it dries."

I hang around for a bit helping Catty check the Professor, though I already know she will be next to him while he is unconscious. She never leaves him alone when he sleeps either, my chance to assassinate him is gone until he wakes up again.

* * *

**[The Professor](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=The_Professor):**

"Ouch, what blew up this time?" I asked as I came to with a pounding headache.

"Nothing, the artificial gravity went a little wonky though. Do you remember what you where working on?" Asks the sweet voice of Catty and I turn to look at her. Pink hair frames her delicate face with large golden eyes which sparkle with humor. Not for the first time I feel a sense of awe at what handwavium is able to accomplish, to bring to life a perfect creature such as this or the two others crewing this ship. Oh sure their basic frame was hand crafted by experts, built by a Japanese company specializing in life size dolls. The dolls had been just that, dolls, lifeless and uninteresting, but after I carefully molded handwavium into muscles and tucked a few select pieces of machinery here and there through their bodies they came alive. The first to be successfully animated with anything approaching human like intelligence. I was already been a mad scientist then, my intelligence enhanced to ludicrous levels by the handwavium, though back then I hadn't understood the price I would pay for enhancing myself like I had. I gave a mental snort, the insanity wasn't that bad, even if it had gotten me kicked off earth with a warning from NATO that if I ever tried to so much as re-enter the atmosphere I would be shot down. It also had gotten me the [former royal yacht of Denmark](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Sol_Bianca), along with an unofficial thanks. Come to think of it that thanks what probably the only reason I hadn't been shot, just exiled. Focusing my drifting mind back to the question I was asked I tried to recall what I had been doing, I got a vague jumble of equations and four dimensional thrust vectors, and a couple of contradictory theories about how handwavium would react under certain conditions. I think all the theories where right though, which only stands to reason, I'm the greatest mad scientist in the universe! Shaking of my delusions of grandeur I answer the question.

"I was working on a subspace drive I think. The details are a little fuzzy, how long was I out? and for that matter how long was I working?"

"You where unconscious for two days, and before that working almost six weeks." She answered while holding out a very welcome cup of coffee.

"Thank you," I say as I accept the coffee. "Six weeks eh? Ouch, no wonder my head feels like it should explode if only to put me out of my misery. Anything I should take care of right away?" Ah caffeine, pure bliss.

"Your sister has a few of the usual questions on handwavium theory, but those could wait for a day or two. You have also been invited to speak at a Convention at Phobos, but we are to far out to reach it in time."

"When is the convention?"

"In three days, but we are still in orbit around Jupiter. We didn't want to try using the engines until you checked them out."

"Well them time to see if what I was working on actually works. I think I finished it. I'd better check it though, I wouldn't want to get stranded in subspace."

"Oh I can think of plenty of ways to keep us entertained should that happen." Catty says with a smirk as she runs her hands along her side in a very suggestive manner. It is then that I notice for the first time what she's wearing and I can feel the blood rushing to my face and ... other areas.

"Gah, well I better go check up on the engines." I stammer out as I race out of the infirmary, garbing a lab coat as I do so. Lucky someone had dressed me in my pajamas, though considering I was the only male on board I didn't want to think of who had done it. Catty's amused laughter echoes down the hallway after me. I relax a bit, she was only teasing, and even if she wasn't it's hardly the sort of thing I should be running away from.

* * *

Guzzling the cup of coffee next to me I set about answering the emails that Ryoko had set aside until after I got some rest. Mostly it where the usual questions about how handwavium worked, and requests for experiments beyond the Limit. I put the later aside, we would have to go back beyond the Limit after the convention, I wanted to visit Junior anyway. At least with the new engine it wouldn't take more then a month to get out there. Currently the _Sol Bianca_ was cruising at a 0.01 c, almost five times faster than she has ever moved before inside the Limit. Now if only using the engine didn't cause radioactive spiders to appear. Oh well at least it didn't have any quirks when it wasn't being used. Sending off the answers along with a request for some materials to be delivered to Phobos while I was there anyway. I'm lucky my sister got me this freelance job at Northrop Grumman Corporation, this way I can get supplies for my research easily and only need to spend a few hours a month answering some simple questions about handwavium. Some interesting ideas regarding what would happen when handwavium and plutonium where combined in certain ways had been going around on the mailing lists, and it definitely merited further experimentation.

Kicking a spider that tries to bite me aside I go and check that the navigational system isn't too drunk and that we are still on course. I will need to stock up on more Jack Daniels, the navigation system seems more reliable with it.

* * *

**Miyu Glear:**

I like Phobos, it is one of the few places where the Sol Bianca can dock, and with their traffic control I don't need to deal with the whining of the sensors about their Pokemon episodes being interrupted. I'll need to ask the Professor if he can't upgrade them to something less annoying. With a soft clunk the _Sol Bianca_ settled down in it's docking slip. 12 hours before the convention officially starts and already this place is crawling with fen, which is understandable considering how long it takes to get around. Well I'd better get ready to escort the Professor. Maybe we can go for a romantic walk along the promenade and I can convince him to buy me a new katana. Then we can go to some nice secluded spot where I can finally kill him in peace without Ryoko or Catty interrupting. Who am I kidding, it'll be way too crowded with the upcoming convention, a katana would be nice though.

"Hey Miyu are you alright? You look a little preoccupied." Asks Ryoko, interrupting my pleasant daydream. Really how can someone be so cheerful all the time?

"Just thinking about stuff. I ordered a few extra gallons of bleach, I know spider goo is hard to get out of that shirt."

"Thank you, I hadn't thought of that. Any preferences for dinner?"

"Not really, whatever you feel like making is fine. Well I better get ready to help the Professor, we don't want the power of science unleased on another poor lynching mob. Is there anything I should pick up while I'm in the shopping district anyway?"

"No, we are good until the next batch of supplies arrive. See you tonight." She says as she waves me off with a cheerful little wave. She is so nice, if I didn't know better I would say it's impossible to be so cheerful all the time.


	5. Chapter 5

**[Gina](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Regina_%27Gina%27_Langley):**

The 1986 Volkswagen Jetta was a decent little car. Unlike certain other year-models of the make, this particular one was known for being utterly reliable even when horribly beaten. It was a good little car.

What it had not been meant to do was have some Handwavium shoved into the gas tank and used as an inter-system vehicle. That's not what he had actually done, but when people ask him about how he got the Jetta to do that he loved the looks he gets from everyone when he tells them that.

Benjamin felt, that aside, that the Jetta was doing pretty magnificently well. And so was he. Using Gina, he'd become a pretty adept courier, swiftly shuttling small cargo loads, paperwork, and the occasional passenger or two through the system. That and he was one of the first and best Asteroid Racers among Fenkind. The scenery changed and he met interesting people along the way. And at the end of the day he'd return to his homey little niche board the first orbital habitat over Earth.

At this time, Ben was sleeping. He'd been up late the other night on IRC once again. Doing so wasn't such a big deal. Gina handled most of the boring stuff without complaint. She'd usually entertain herself in the process by harassing some alt. group on usenet anyways. Not that Ben cared - he never could get into Usenet.

Gina was more than just the Jetta itself. She was also a computer in the trunk. Ben had gotten fed up with the machine's sub-par performance one day and, for shits and giggles, pulled the old AMD Duron processor and RAM DIMM's out and stuck some Handwavium in their place and a few other key areas like the hard drive and graphics card, etcetera. An AI did not surface immediately, but when he installed the computer into the Handwaviumized Jetta, Gina manifested.

While Benjamin slept, Gina had dedicated a process thread or two to staying on course while the rest she used to have fun tormenting the Trolls and EMO's on Usenet, Myspace, LiveJournal, and a few others. She also kept one on monitoring Ben's e-mail accounts as he'd asked her to whenever she could.

Therefore, she was quick to notice the odd email that came in on from the Nation of the Fen mailing list. Briefly, she checked the message. Had she been human, she would have sighed and shaken her head. Never send a bot to do an AI's job. That aside, it looked like it was worth Ben's attention, and he'd slept long enough anyways...

* * *

**[Benjamin Rhodes](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Benjamin_Rhodes):**

"Yo, BJ! Wake up. You got e-mail from the Nation's all call."

"Guh?" I replied as I sat up in the reclined driver's seat and began to rub the blurriness out of my eyes. "E-mail? Put it up on the driver's side monitor." So saying, I pulled down one of the LCD displays I had mounted in place of the visors. It was a small miracle that I was able to get matching ones made to be installed inside cars like this, so it didn't look like a kludge job at all.

I sighed after reading the message. "Someone needs to shoot their secretary," I said as I reached for the touch-sensitive screen, hit the reply button with my left hand.

Normally, I'm right-handed, but my biomod forces me to use my left one for more delicate work. I thought that having Kazuma Torisuna's right hand would be useful, and it was, but not in applications like these. Metal fingertips scratch touchscreens and could punch through keyboard if I wasn't careful. With that in mind, I rapped out a quick acknowledgment on the split keyboard that was on either side of the steering wheel.

"Too bad they're doing this convention in a big space," said Gina. "I'd've loved to see the overcrowding issues we would have had back home."

"You would," I replied as I tapped the 'Send' button on the screen. "Don't forget who would actually have to live with that kind of insanity."

"Hah. You humans and your biological needs."

"You machines and your mechanical needs," I retorted.

"Hey!"

"Chill out. How far are we from Home?"

"We're about an hour out," she replied, plotting our position on a map of the Earth and Mars orbits, focusing on the point where [The Island](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=The_Island) would be now. Our position was indicated just inside the Mars orbit.

"Traffic?" I asked.

"Probably because of that e-mail. Its timestamp was for five hours ago. Welcome to rush hour."

"Peachy."

* * *

"Island ATC, this is the _[Bullet Boy Express](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Bullet_Boy_Express)_ , requesting permission for a one-hour layover. Purpose, to reprovision and hit the showers."

"Affirmative, Ben. Bring her in nice and easy, and none of that power-slide-landing shit. You still owe us for what happened last time."

"Gah. Yeah, no problem," I replied. "The check's in with this month's rent."

"Good. Island ATC out."

"You really got their knickers in a bunch last time," said Gina once the connection had been cut, popping up on the drop-down screen above. She was a dead ringer for Asuka Langely Soryu from _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ \- something that was entirely accidental. Unfortunately, while she hates being refered to as Asuka by the common Fen, she was almost just like said character. At least she didn't have such a huge superiority complex. Right now, she sounded very much amused. I didn't entirely appreciate it, but this was Gina. I let it slide.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. Really, she was entitled. It's not often that I wipe out so spectacularly and she had been miffed about the body damage. The only reason she didn't try to kill me then was because she knew I cared about her looks as much as she did and went right to work on getting her fixed up. Anyhow, I'll rib her back later when the opportunity presented itself - she'll expect me to.

As promised, I landed in a safe and sane manner, the wheels of the well maintained looking (some may settle for rust buckets - I won't) black-and-gold Jetta barking softly as they hit the tarmac. As promised, I got showered, got some food stuffs and enough clothes for a week packed along with a fresh load of fuel, and then I was off for Phobos.

Earth-to-Mars jaunts were so commonplace that The Island took up station in an orbit that would net itself the most traffic between the two worlds. Therefore, it was an ideal place for me to set-up shop. You'd be surprised how much money can be made ferrying packages, legal documents, and the occasional personage or two between the two planets.

Now, I wouldn't say that I was well endowed, but that's because my earnings are all going towards a... Special Project. Hush-hush. Been talking to folks at NASA for a while and that's all I'll say on the matter. Anyhow, at least I can live more comfortably than I ever did on Earth and my downtime spent at The Island is quite enjoyable.

That said, I like my line of work (especially the races), and even enjoyed the occasional jaunt for personal reasons. This time for the 'Con. I could hardly wait see what was going on this time. In the meantime, Gina and I were thoroughly enjoying ourselves as we ducked and weaved through the steady stream of traffic bound from Earth to Mars.

People knew me, if not personally, then by reputation. Some saluted me as I passed in whatever means possible; winking lights, snap rolls, signal flares... Others ignored me. A few whom I'd made enemies of tried to take pot-shots at me. Yahright, see ya!

It was a fun two-hour run, but like all good things, it had to come to an end.

"Attention Phobos Control, This is _Bullet Boy Express_ , requesting parking space for sedan-class Fen-craft."

"Like, yo! _Bullet Boy_. Ya clear. Sendin' ya data now. See ya lataz and have fun at the con."

I blinked at that. "Gina, was that a person or an AI we were talking to?"

"It was an AI, I think," she replied. "It'd make sense that they'd get one to help out with this much traffic coming in. Opening docking data now."

The folks at Phobos were pretty well on the ball as far as Fen went. The data consisted of not only the basic TOS guidelines and procedures, but directions to your dock/parking-space and navigational markers for those fortunate enough to be using a HUD. I didn't have a HUD myself, but I did have the next best thing.

"Okay then, Gina, stick it on Driver's Side monitor," I said as I pulled down the LCD display. It flickered and presented the forward view outside, along with the Nav point markers and tagged out ships. Funny thing about it is that Gina had used the interface from the old Decent: Freespace game. Not that I complained - it certainly came in handy and I really did like the effect it gave.

A few more irritated Fen later, I had parked the Jetta in it's assigned space and took care of my parking, lodging and Con fees. I was quick to notice that the Sol Bianca was in one of the larger docking slips and smiled. It'd be good to see the Professor again, sleep deprived or not. Though, in this setting, the former would be much preferred.


	6. How Not To Wake Up

Banging your head against the ceiling, even at 1/10 g, is a rotten way to start your day. Banging your head against the ceiling because your idiot son decided to wake you up with the melodious strains of "Goldfish Warning" is, without a doubt, a worse start to the day.

"This had better be good, David!" I growled at the intercom. "I've told you, "Goldfish Warning" is strictly for emergencies!"

"How about an unscheduled Con, Dad?" David replied, his voice showing no signs of contrition whatsoever. "We just got the bounce off SSX. Con's gonna be in Phobos. If you take Max, you can get there with a few hours to spare."

"Max? What do you think about this?" I knew he was listening in - we were all pretty much an open book to each other, and there wasn't anyone else on Pallas yet, since the atmosphere was still growing. My calendar had the last of the O2-generating bacteria I'd bought from Kevin scheduled to hit their saturation point and die in about a month. Until then, I was living at the end I'd designated "North Pole," in a tunnel complex that would be the place's main port, with my boys.

"It would be nice to chat with some of the other ships without having to deal with the lag," Max replied. He's my third son. Looks like a VF-1S with a Skull Squadron paint job. "I'm up for it."

"All right, then. I'll throw together my Con kit and we can scoot." As much as I hate going into crowds that big, if something had come up to justify a Con this far out of the normal schedule, I figured I'd better be there to see what was up. "Mac? Antonio? You guys can keep up the maintenance and keep the Reavers off, right?"

"I am more concerned about random dust than Reavers," Antonio replied. "The canopy may be self-healing, but it still requires monitoring as the atmosphere fills it. I'm not sure the anchors are as strong as the canopy is."

"Neither am I, Tony. Neither am I. It's the trade-off of using a carbonaceous asteroid instead of a rocky one. Lots of organic material, but it's not as strong as rock would be. How about you, Mac?"

"No problems, Dad. A 40cm slug of solid rock, traveling at 100 miles per second, is going to ruin anyone's day. And you left us plenty of rocks to play with." Mac answered with a laugh. "At least, enough to keep any Reavers out of range until help can get here."

"All right. If you're sure." Have I mentioned how much I hate crowds?

"Dad," David cut in, actually sounding impatient, "if you don't start putting your kit together, I'll read the email to you. Out loud."

"Oy. Is it really that bad?"

"Dad, it's in Engrish." David made it sound as if Engrish were a swear word. "Video game level Engrish."

"Uh...right. Max, start warming up your engines. I'll be out in just a minute." Or maybe two, but it wasn't going to take long. It's not like I have all that much to pack. My Con kit really just consists of my meds, a couple changes of clothes, and whatever spare cash I have to spend on the hucksters. At least living at 1/10 g meant I didn't need as many meds as I had on Earth. But most days, before the end of the day, I was wishing I could trade in my organic parts for cybernetic ones, rather than just wearing Edgar as a wristwatch. Come to think of it, he hadn't put in his two cents worth yet. "Edgar?"

"I'm sorry, Father," Edgar answered - verbally, rather than directly into my mind the way he usually did. "I have been analyzing what I could scrape up in message traffic. Unfortunately, it's not very informative. Mostly speculation and gossip. It does, however, confirm that the Reavers are concerning a lot of people. Most worrisomely, they seem to be concerning people affiliated with the 'Danelaw."

"Just what we need," I grumbled under my breath as I stuffed my bag. As if my day hadn't started off badly enough. "Damned fedgoons sticking their noses where they're not wanted. Just what they do best. Damned Reavers would almost be an improvement. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if OUR Reavers were a fedgoon project, too."

"Not surprising, but not likely, either," Edgar said. "David, do continue monitoring everything you can pick up. If you hit anything like what I've flagged as interesting, squirt it to Max. He can pass it to me."

"Sure thing," David said. "Dad, I have your frame in Max's cargo bay in case the gravity is too high in Phobos. Use it this time. Please?"

His voice had a pleading tone I couldn't fight. Last time I'd gone anywhere with a lot of gravity, I'd had a mild heart attack. Ever since then, the boys had been afraid I'd have a repeat performance, and that this time I wouldn't be able to get medical help in time.

"All right, David," I sighed. "I promise. And Edgar will help me keep my promise. OK?"

"Thanks, Dad." The relief in his voice brought tears to my eyes. The boys really did worry about me, and I loved them as much as if they were my own flesh and blood. I couldn't risk leaving them alone and unloved.

"David, make sure everyone hears this, ok?" I waited for him to acknowledge it before I continued. "I promise, I'll do whatever I have to, to stay healthy on this trip. But if anything happens despite the best efforts of myself, Max, and Edgar, I want you to call Kevin. If you can't get through to him, call Megan. Either way, I don't want you boys left alone without someone to love you."

I did my best to ignore the worried protests as I stowed my bag alongside my frame and closed Max's cargo bay. Once that was done, I jumped up to the cockpit and strapped myself in. Given my size, it was a tight fit, but more snug than painful out here. Kind of like a Fiero's bucket seat had fit when I was 200 pounds lighter. I leaned back, snugged my head up against the headrest, and felt Max's induction connections take hold. Seeing and feeling through his sensors, I no longer felt restricted by my own body. Max/I rolled out of the hangar into the open ground within the polar ring, then stopped to scan the sky before kicking in the drives and taking off. The best thing about being completely linked with Max was that the cockpit didn't have any controls or instruments to confuse me if I opened my eyes while linked. Max/I flew as naturally as a bird, without need of the instruments an ordinary pilot and jet needed. Sometimes Edgar had to bring us back down to earth, but that didn't happen much since the time we flew to the Limit and Edgar had had to pull us back before my body failed from hunger and dehydration.

"Here's the rest of your email, Dad," David sent as we lifted away from Pallas. "Try to have fun, ok?"

"Will do my best. You boys be good to each other while I'm gone, ok? I love you all."

"We love you too, Father," Antonio replied for all of them, waving one of his chelicera as Max/I flew over the envelope before adjusting our course for Mars.


	7. Russian Roulette with Handwavium

**[The Jason](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=The_Jason):**

I straightened up from where I'd been repotting one of my latest experiments, hands going to my lower back as I tried to stretch out the stiffness. Everything looked good so far; unless something totally off-the-wall showed up, I'd soon have a new cash crop plant to sell to the Martian terraformers. They'd loved the Mars-hardy cotton that I'd worked up - everybody needed clothes, and t-shirts were such a fan staple that cotton fabric was always in big demand. Now we didn't need to rely on the 'danes for it. I was looking forward to seeing their reaction to 'cool,' my wool/cotton hybrid: wool fibers grown in bolls like cotton - no sheep needed. And Lachesis would be happy, too. I'd gotten a good price for the cotton, as well as a discount on whatever I bought for myself, and I should be able to wrangle the same for this. She'd love having wool to play with in her weaving.

The pot went back into the chamber for Martian-tolerant seedlings, and I hooked up the monitor clip to one leaf. Another leaf got the music clip, and I chuckled softly to myself. I could have made a fortune if I'd sold THIS idea. Most biomodded plants seemed to respond to music; my opinion was that people had so gotten used to the idea that plants responded to music that it had become a dominant meme...and handwavium seemed to respond awfully well to memes. To thought in general, to be honest, but give it a good meme and it really took off. I'd guess that at least eighty percent of all plant mods responded to music at some level or another...and the actual number might be even higher. This could drive you crazy if you had to listen for too long. On the other hand...plants don't have ears; they just sense the vibrations. And the clip I had didn't play the music audibly. Hooked up to a stem or leaf, it relayed the vibrations of the music directly into the plant, no air-driven transmissions needed. This was highly useful for maintaining one's sanity, and a necessity for my mining plants - no air means no music, unless you used something like this. Since I'd recently started to sell mining plants to fen who wanted to try their hand at asteroid mining but who weren't sure about the whole mining concept, I'd gone ahead and posted the specs for the clips to the Net. Might as well do my bit for preserving people's sanity - what little we fen had, at least.

"All right, Clotho. Everything's set. Have you found anything specific for this batch, yet?" I sealed the door to the chamber, and watched the outside gauges as it set the interior conditions to the current ones for Mars.

Clotho's cheerful soprano came from the speaker nearest me. "Nothing yet. They respond somewhat to 'Dixie', but nowhere near as well as the actual cotton did. Ready for me to try the brute force approach, and run the library?"

I shook my head. "Not quite yet. Try Lehrer's 'I Wanna Go Back to Dixie' first, then....hmm...maybe the Baarmy Sheep of the Lake District. If neither of those work, then run the library, concentrating on anything sheep or cotton related first. I know there should be at least a few things, between the filk and Lachesis' weaving songs. Hell, they might even like the Hooligans. Try that one as well."

"Will do. Off for lunch?"

Nodding, I was already stripping off my gloves and headed for the door. "Yeah. Time to get a bite to eat. Let me know if anything unusual shows up, or if we hit a good match, music-wise." I smiled at her affirmative, and headed to the kitchen. Rummaging through the refrigerator, I pulled out the stir-fry I'd made the day before and sat down at the table to eat. "Hey, Lachesis? Anything going on?"

She answered as I took my first bite. "I'm finishing up the latest bit of weaving I'm doing, and the drones are going through the living areas for the daily cleaning. Atropos just brought in the latest harvest from the asteroid. We've nearly got a full bin now - worth cashing in, I'd say, lad. And a good time, as well. There's a new email for the Nation - Fate says that someone's called Convention."

My eyebrows went up, and I hastily swallowed the last bite I'd taken. "Convention? Wonder what's up.....? Tell Fate I'll be forward as soon as I finish lunch." From the nearest speaker came, "Aye, will do." With that, she went silent and I went back to eating - a bit more hurriedly than I might otherwise, since this sounded interesting. Putting my dishes into the dishwasher and starting it up, I headed forward to see what was going on.

As I entered the cockpit, Fate's voice rang out, in a HORRIBLE Japanese accent. Have you ever heard a Greek chorus try this? It shouldn't be missed, that's for sure. "Kevin! Come see! Much bad Engrish here, ah so!" I snorted and sat down in front of the monitor. "That bad, is it? All right....hit me." The screen flashed on, and as I read over the message, I groaned. Great ghu, how had this bunch gotten ahold of an alpha version of the original Babelfish program...and why in the world had they inflicted it on some poor innocent computer? I dashed off a quick reply to let them know that the Jason would be attending, then sat back and brooded for a bit...long enough to catch Fate's attention, anyway.

"Something on your mind, Kevin? About Convention?"

I sighed, and nodded. "Not quite directly...but yeah. That decision I've been putting off. I...think it might be time to try it." I'd been feeling my age, lately. I know I'm not that old in years - just into my forties - but as the old saw went, it's not the years, it's the mileage. Diabetes. Congestive heart failure. High blood pressure, high cholesterol. The start of arthritis. My weight, and all the problems that came with it, including the sleep apnea. Lowering the gravity a little had helped, but...it just kept adding up, and things weren't as much fun as they used to be. A year or two ago, I'd be really looking forward to Convention. Now...I still wanted to go, but it was more a chore than a joy. And given the implications of the excitement a month or so back...well, being exhausted most of the time might not be a healthy idea. I'd been hoping the researchers in the 'danelaw might've been able to come up with a perfected version before I needed to do it, but that wasn't looking likely. Time to play Russian roulette.

Fate spoke softly, "If you're sure....Clotho says the Tree has a few ripe apples." I nodded quietly. "Tell the others, would you? I'll probably need a large tarp as well. I've got some idea how this might affect me, and no sense making a mess. I'll talk to you all back in the living quarters, after I've gotten the apple." She was quiet as I left the cockpit, and both Lachesis and Clotho were silent as well as I went for the Garden.

Every good Garden should have a Tree in it, right? Mine was no exception. A small apple tree stood in what I knew to be one corner of the Garden, though the illusion made it look as if it were near an outcropping of stone. I checked and found one that looked ripe, then picked it and headed back to the kitchen. Sitting down at the table again, I plunked the apple down before me, and stared at it for a few minutes. It was pretty enough: a pale golden skin, almost like a Golden Delicious, though rounder than one of those. The faintest hint of an actual metallic golden gleam would clue most into the fact that the apple wasn't ordinary, however - that, and the dark imperfections on the skin. They were small, but definitely there, and I kicked my subconscious. It had been going non-stop when I'd been working on this idea, and the handwavium had latched onto the idea like a drowning man might a liferaft. Small black Greek letters were quite visible against the gold, spelling out Kallisti. All in all, it was quite an appropriate bundle for an agent of chaos, and that's what it was. Laced through the fruit was enough biomod-ready handwavium to induce a modification in a person. All you had to do was eat it...and take your chances.

Lachesis broke the silence. "So, lad....are you going to go through with it, then?" She sounded rather subdued. After Clotho, she was the most upbeat of the remaining Sisters, so she probably wasn't happy.

I breathed a sigh, and nodded. "I think so. I've been waiting a long time for something more controlled, but it doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon. And...I'm tired. I feel so OLD all the time now, and I want a change. I want to be healthy again, to have something actually resembling energy. I mean, I get by OK, but..." I shrugged, "...it's time. Might as well do it now. With luck, the changes won't be too severe, and if it works, I can actually enjoy Convention. If not...we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Worst case....you girls go to see Fred or Megan. They'll take care of you." That drew what sounded like a muffled sob from the speaker - Clotho - and her voice was trembling as she spoke, "Dad...."

Lachesis spoke up again, "It won't come to that, Da." I shrugged again. "I certainly HOPE not, but best to consider the possibility." Atropos added her two cents at that. "Forget the possibility. I REFUSE to clip your thread, Father. Go through with this if you want - but you WILL get through it." Her voice sounded tight, grim. Ah, my girls. Most of the time we didn't dwell on the relationship, but they were the closest thing that I'd probably ever have to children. Fate sang softly through the speakers. "Do what you have to do, Father, if it's what you wish. Come back to us renewed." I swallowed hard at that, and nodded. "I plan to. Go ahead and plot a slow course in to Phobos, Fate, and start us on our way. Get us there just at Convention time; I'll probably need a bit of time to get used to whatever this does." I could hear the faintest of hums in the background as the drive came online, and Fate answered. "We're on our way, Father. I'll work on the course as we go." I nodded, and then got up from the table.

One of Lachesis' mobiles had brought a large tarp in, and I spread it out. I weigh a lot, and if this worked anything like I wanted it to, the extra mass had to go somewhere. I wasn't sure what would happen, but I might as well prepare for a mess. I could easily envision likely scenarios, and a tarp would take care of some of them. I stripped down all the way, putting my glasses on the kitchen table, then took the apple back to the tarp and sat down in the middle of it. "Wish me luck, girls." They all chimed in for best wishes, though they certainly didn't sound happy. Too worried for that, at least for now. I took a deep breath, and started in on the apple. It didn't take too long to finish off. There wasn't a core, since I hadn't planned on this variety to reproduce that way...and removing it gave me a chance to pack even more handwavium into the fruit. I settled back, stretching out...and felt myself start to fall asleep immediately. I knew that, whatever might happen next, I probably wouldn't want to be awake for it...and I'd designed the apple with a natural sedative effect. Hopefully, by the time I woke up, everything should be over. One way or another. Time to see just how good of a jason I really was.


	8. All Sales Are Final

The first thing I noticed as I started to wake up were the aches. I'd never had a hangover before, but from everything I'd read, this felt like what I'd imagined one would. Gods, even my hair hurt. The second thing that hit me - and it was strong enough, it practically WAS a blow to the skull - was the SMELL. Gods, what was that horrible stench? Raw meat and blood and....I shuddered, making a gurgling noise deep in my throat. I moved a little, and felt something thick and slimy squelch underneath me. Whatever it was, I appeared to be sleeping in it. And wearing it. Bleah! Then....I started to remember what I'd done before I went to sleep. Apple. Gods. Ok....I now had an idea of what I was sleeping in. At least I HAD woken up. That was a good start.

It's not exactly easy to speak without opening your lips, but I certainly tried. I sure as hell didn't want any of the slime I felt covering me INSIDE my mouth. "Um....Lach'sis? Towel?" I held up a hand, eyes closed, and felt a towel placed in it. Wiping my mouth clean, I started in on the rest of my head. "Um....Lachesis? Do I want to open my eyes and find out why I'm now a high tenor instead of a baritone?"

Lachesis chuckled softly. "Probably not, lad." Then she actually giggled. "Um....you remember that problem you had? How you said you felt so old?" I nodded slowly, still trying to get whatever the crap was off of my face and hair. "Ye-e-e-es....." More chuckling, and it sounded like Clotho joined her. "Well...you don't have that problem anymore....."

I actually groaned. "I chibified myself!? How badly....?" Lachesis hmmmed softly. "Well....at a guess, you're maybe four foot six, I'd say. And there are...other considerations, too." That got another groan. Goddess, what I had I done to myself? It couldn't be TOO horrible if they were relieved enough to laugh at the chibification, but still.....

I finally got my face clean enough to risk opening my eyes, and I grimaced at what I saw. I was sitting up in a large pile of....well, goo. And not a nice clean goo like handwavium, either. I was looking at a good hundred pounds or more of partly-liquified me - whatever was left after the handwavium used the rest of my excess mass to power the transformation. Looking down, I took stock. Beard was gone - I'd felt that as soon as I was cleaning my face. Arms look normal, legs as well...just covered with slime and smaller. I glanced at something stretched out by my leg. Tail.

I blinked, my mind trying to process that and hitting a read error. Tail?! I have to admit, the first thing I did was drop the towel into my lap and clap my hands to my head. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. OK. No furry ears on top of the head and - a bit more feeling around - the regular ones were where they should be and felt normal. NOT a catboy then, or an dog-hanyou or whatever....even if my sense of smell did seem to be turbocharged.

At this point, both Clotho and Lachesis were quietly giggling, and I definitely heard an amused snort from Atropos. "Uh....tail." The giggling increased. I reached out gingerly and prodded at it with my finger, and it twitched. OK, THAT felt weird. Another poke, and I felt it move and wrap around my wrist. Um...prehensile...I blinked, and groaned. "Oh no....." More giggling from the peanut gallery. I took the tip of the tail between my thumb and forefinger, and started to squeeze. Gently at first, then a bit more pressure until....I yelped and let go - QUICKLY - and shuddered. Damn, almost like a kick to the nuts, combined with...weakness? Like I'd exercised until all my muscles were sore and I didn't want to move. OK. No squeezing. Squeezing was definitely of the bad. Unfortunately, this reaction mostly confirmed what my subconscious and the handwavium had agreed upon as a good template for not-old/healthy. "Oh, bloody hell."

The giggling broke directly into belly laughter. Even Atropos was laughing now, though she did try to sound serious as she spoke. "You always liked Dragonball, Kevin." I snorted. "Yes, to watch. Not to be a cast member. I don't even KNOW martial arts...." I picked up the towel and started wiping myself off again, trying to get as much of the gunk off as possible. "Gah. I need a bath, or the smell's gonna knock me out. Clotho....start up a storm in the Garden, please? I'll scrape as much off as I can here, then go wash the rest in there. With a bit of luck, it'll even count as a sacrifice, so I won't have to bleed for a bit. And....how long was I out?"

Lachesis answered, her own laughter quieting though she still sounded amused. "You were out for nearly a full day and a half. Longer than some of the biomods in the references, but...the changes for you are pretty dramatic." I nodded at that. I'd lost nearly a foot and a half of height, to begin with, as well as....I glanced at the goo as I got shakily to my feet to clean off the rest of my body. "I'm glad I put down the tarp. I wasn't sure if it'd go to this, but as much as I weighed...well..." I grimaced. "Lachesis? Once I head for the Garden, wrap this mess up in the tarp, and stash it in an empty slot in one of the lab freezers? I should probably take a look at it after I recover, just to figure out more of what happened."

"Sure thing, lad," she replied, and I hmmmed. "Anything happen while I was out? Or was I the only floor show?" Clotho spoke up, "Just you. Though when you started MELTING, it was more like a horror show. DON'T do that to us again, Dad!" I shuddered, and nodded. "No plans on it, lass....not like that, at any rate. Besides...." I looked myself over. Hard to estimate exactly, but maybe. "...it looks like I have another thirty years or so before I'm back to the age I was. I'd guess...twelve, thirteen tops. Though given that this is handwavium, I could be wrong. I just hope I'm only off by a year or two, and not by an order of magnitude or two...." That got another snort from Atropos. "Don't want to be young forever?" I snorted back, "Don't want to be a chibi forever. Eighteen or twenty wouldn't have been so bad, but this..." I sighed softly as I finally got clean enough to step off the tarp, though the drying slime on my skin made me shudder. Ick. I dropped the towel back onto the tarp to be gathered up and frozen with the goo.

Stepping away from the tarp proved to be problematic, however. I got one, maybe two steps away, and fell down. "What...?" I got up, tried walking again, and again met the floor face-first. Then I felt the tail brush against my back, and I put my hand over my eyes. "Wonderful. I should've remembered. Center of balance has changed - not just from the weight and size, but from the tail. This is going to be a pain." I climbed back to my feet and started for the Garden, moving slowly and taking time with each step. I was more than a little off-balance, but knowing the problem, I was at least able to stay upright. I'm sure I looked like a drunk as I went, though. This drew some more snickering from my ladies. Ah, yes, I was apparently the best entertainment in town at the moment.

Finally, I got to the door to the Garden. "Clotho? Once Lachesis has the tarp secured and freezing, ask her to leave another towel here by the door? I'll want to dry off." The reply of "Sure thing, Kev," let me know that things were settling back to normal. If they weren't calling me dad or father, they were feeling more secure. I took a deep breath - regretting it almost immediately as the smell hit my nose again - and headed into the Garden.

I was greeted by a crash of thunder and a hard spray of cool rain, as bright light flashed overhead. I moved off to a grassy area to one side of the path, and started to scrub the slime from my body. Glancing overhead, I grinned at the roiling grey stormclouds above, as another bolt of lightning flashed between two of them. A boom of thunder came from hidden speakers a few seconds later. Gods, but I loved the Garden. As much as I love space and cities...I grew up in the country. And a good summer thunderstorm wasn't to be missed. Letting the hard rain sluice me down, I started to scrub my hair. Hmm. Texture hasn't changed. Maybe I won't get the bedhead-from-hell look. Gods, I hope not. Though it could've been even worse. I could've gotten Gohan's mop-top. I snickered to myself. As one fanfic I enjoyed had put it: That wasn't a hairdo - it was a hair-don't.

Getting my hair to what I hoped was a clean state, I started on my face. As I scrubbed my hands over my skin, I glanced at the trees in the distance, and saw another bolt lash down to the ground. Then I blinked...and patted my hands on my nose for a second before letting out a loud whoop of joy. I'd SEEN that, clearly. Looking around, I noticed everything was sharp and clear. But....I'd never put my glasses on after waking up. They were still back on the table, where I'd left them before going to sleep. I got a huge shit-eating grin on my face. OK....maybe I could deal with being chibified. Being able to see clearly was a huge mark in the plus column as far as I was concerned, and if this had fixed my other problems as well...

I took a deep breath, and let it out, sobering a little even though the grin didn't die back completely. It wouldn't be all sunshine and roses. There were too many questions as to how far this change went and some fairly big potential downsides. For one thing, I was going to have to be careful in here until I knew this body better, because the Garden DID show stars at night...and the Moon. I wasn't worried about being a giant were-monkey; handwavium could do things that looked damned miraculous but as far as I knew, even it couldn't create mass. But....I hrmed softly to myself. I suppose it could transform me into one that was around my current size. I'd read about some biomods that involved shapechanging, so it was a possibility. A mindless rage was another - breaking brain chemistry would be even easier than shapechanging. I groaned softly. OK. Have to arrange some sort of straitjacket or restraints and test it. I wasn't going to go around being afraid to look at the Moon ever again, not without a reason to be. I was glad that my last creations were close to being done, so that I didn't have to do much monitoring at the moment. Because it looked as though I was going to be my next test subject.


	9. Friendly Meeting

"Spam...spam...spam...Let David play with this one...let's read that Con notice now..." Space between Pallas and Mars is pretty boring. Catching up on my email was just about the only thing to do, and even that wasn't high on the excitement list. "OK, did someone run this through an alpha version of Babelfish, or was it composed using those magnetic poetry strips?"

"Maybe it was a combination of the two?" Max suggested. "By the way, we're coming up on Kevin's usual parking space. He's not there. Probably already left for the Con."

"Somehow, that wouldn't surprise me," Edgar said. "This is a group I've never heard of before, which makes me wonder if they're something like the Cabal, and trying to keep people from figuring out who they are by interpreting their writing style."

"Could be, but everybody knows there is no Cabal." We all laughed at that. The joke was so old, it had dinosaur droppings on it. "OK. Max, scan to see which way Kevin went, then set up email headers and plug in this text: Fred, Edgar, and Maxmillian MacManus en route for Convention. Will need parking space for Max. Pressurized space preferred. End message. Max, can you get a list of who has rooms available and reserve a single? Preferably as far from the main floor as possible?"

"Will do, Dad. Mail's sent, downloading list of rentals now. Edgar, why don't you do the search while Dad and I do some debris-dodging?"

Debris-dodging? Max slid the armor shield over the cockpit's canopy while I let myself sink fully into the link, and now Max/I saw it clearly. some bits of molten metal, a little shrapnel, some organic material and a very, VERY thin cloud of air. It looked as if someone's...hmmm...license plate?...yup, someone's car, no make that truck, had blown up in the area, long enough before that the air cloud was maybe 1 or 2 molecules per cubic meter of space. This must be where Kevin blew up the zwilnik. Time to make a call. Max/I switched to our preferred frequency and gave out a shout.

"Hey! Bel-chan! Are you girls ok? And what's Kevin up to? Want some company? Gimme a call back, ok?"

As Max/I expected, even though we were able to dodge the obvious bits of wreckage - of which there was a lot less than expected even given the time that had passed - some of the smaller stuff, probably droplets of metal that had resolidified after the explosion, pinged off the our skin. Just to be on the safe side, we folded into guardian mode and activated the gun pod. Sure, handwavium wasn't usable as a weapon itself, but it's not like I needed it to be - not as long as it could be used in building a power plant large enough to feed a proper gatling laser. If I could ever get the kinks out of the Ravenfield design, I wouldn't have to worry about the power plant, but until then...thank goodness for Wagner and Tchaikovsky. At least the gun pod's power supply didn't want Sousa.

No response. Well, Kevin usually cruised in this part of the Belt when he wasn't on site for a specific job, so as long as Max/I kept going on my current path, we would be sure to bump into him sooner or later. Hopefully before we get to the Con. It'd be nice to see what he and the girls think about that crazy jumble of Engrish.

"Hello, Fred," Fate's chorus of voices came in about a half hour after my call. "Sorry we didn't call back earlier, but Kevin was kind of busy, and we didn't want to interrupt him. I'll let him know you called once he's figured out what to do with his tail."

"His tail? Do you all have another zwilnik on your ass? Need some backup?" Max/I switched back to fighter mode and cranked up to max speed. No way were we going to let Kevin and the girls fight someone without help. Luckily, the signal was clean enough we could home in on it easily.

"No, nothing like that," Lachesis laughed. "We really do mean a tail. You know, furry, prehensile, throws off his balance so he keeps falling on his arse. That kind of tail."

"A...tail." OK, that was a surprise. Max/I throttled back and scanned for the Fateful Lightning, which had to be coming up close, while trying to decipher that one. "How long has he had a tail?"

"About an hour," Lachesis said. "That's why it's so fun to watch him. He's like a baby, just learning to walk. Except lots cuter."

"Lots cuter." Since Kevin's ideas of cute and mine didn't always intersect ( I voted for Ayanami Rei, while he voted for Ikari Shinji, for instance), I thought about what kind of being with a tail would fall under Kevin's definition of "cute". The answer wasn't hard to find. "I...see. So do I need to make him up a collapsible quarterstaff to keep in his pocket?"

"Want me to ask him?" The tone of 'innocence' in Lachesis' voice made it clear she thought it'd be a fun way to tease him. How could I possibly deny her the fun?

"Sure. Go for it." I really wanted to see what kind of reaction she got, and I knew she'd keep a recording of it for me. Ah. There was the Temple coming into view, not too far ahead. Max/I adjusted speed to match theirs and took up a position above the temple's roof. "We'll just ride shotgun out--"

"Hei Kaptein!" Elsie called. "Hva er skjer med det zwilniks?"

"English, little sister," Clothos chided gently. "What's this about zwilniks?"

"Awww, you're no fun, Skuld!" Elsie complained. "I just wanted to know if you'd heard anything more since you guys blew up that zwilnik. You think it might have something to do with the surprise Con?"

Fate's choir answered Elsie, "Between the zwilnik and what we've been hearing about attacks by 'Reavers' on various miners...as well as numerous other rumors that haven't been validated yet...there is at least a decent probability someone has decided to address the issue. It depends on how much information has been collected by others."

Elsie nodded thoughtfully. "We can hope, at least. If there's a reason like that for the Con, maybe we won't have to put up with Fred's whining about how crowded and noisy it is." She laughed. "We might even be given an excuse to go Reaver hunting."

Atropos snorted softly, "You always did like more excitement than is good for people, child. Though if there are Reavers out there, their threads do need clipped."

"Awww, what's wrong, Auntie Urd?" Elsie giggled. "Just because I ENJOY my work...."

Atropos snorted again, and the tone implied rolled eyes. "Yes, child. We know. How could we not?" She chuckled. "I suppose we'll see. Father did NOT appreciate the zwilnik threatening his friends. Foolish idiot. If he'd just threatened Father, he might've lived. But you know Father...threaten his friends or children...."

"Yup. Kev's a lot like Mike that way," Elsie laughed. "Threaten him? No big deal. He'll just swat you. Threaten his family, friends, or patients? Wrath of the Gryphon time."

"That's Da, yes. So...we'd invite you inside, but Max, you're a bit big for the trailers, lad. We're doing a slow haul to the Con - the lad wants a chance to get used to the changes and all." Lachesis chuckled softly, "Do you want to travel together? Are you set OK for a slow trip in? Or do you need us to speed up some? I'm sure the lad will agree."

"Eh," Elsie shrugged. "We've got enough esteefee to keep us until we get there. Fred seems to enjoy being linked up to Max, so it's not like he's in any rush, and the rest of us can keep ourselves entertained." She laughed and added, teasingly, "Especially if you have compromising videos of Kevin learning how to control his new body to share with us."

Clotho giggled, and Lachesis joined in with a chuckle. "He's currently trying to clean up from the mod. He managed to keep his balance enough to walk once he figured out the problem...barely....but he was walking like day three of a four day bender."

"Only without the hurling, I hope," Elsie laughed. "I'm gonna let Fred back in front now. I think I'll be laughing about that image for a while."

"--here. Damn it! I HATE it when she does that!" I realized I'd lost several minutes, and got the flashed impressions of Elsie's conversation. "Yeah, Elsie's right. We've got enough esteefee for two or three weeks. Might want to come over in a day or two and borrow your showers, but we're ok otherwise."

Lachesis replied, her voice still sounding amused. "No problem. You know you're always welcome here. The lad will be happy to see you, too. It's not often the two of you get to chat face to face, after all. He should be done cleaning up before too long. Want him to call you when he's done?"

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks, ladies. I'm gonna find my Excedrin now." One of the many reasons I hate it when they jump front like that is that it always leaves me with a headache. "Talk with you in a bit, ok?"

Fate answered, "Yes, Fred. We'll talk to you soon."


	10. Chapter 10

**[Mal Fnord](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=S._Malaclypse_Fnord):**

"Phobos Control, this is Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Zero Two Three, we are inbound from Saturn and are on Mars approach. Requesting orbital insertion window and a rendezvous path for docking at Phobos Station, over."

_< <Roger that, Zero Two Three. Be advised, traffic for Phobos is very heavy right now. Settle into a parking orbit 300 kilometers ahead of Phobos until further notice. Sending your insertion data now, over.>>_

"Understood, Phobos Control. Let us know when the queue starts to move. Zero Two Three out."

The navicomp chimed as the ATC system fed us all the data we needed to make a safe orbital insertion. Mars always had a lot of traffic - being the closest thing to an inhabitable planet not under the 'danelaw, lots of people had homesteads or camping sites or whatnot on the surface, plus with the terraforming going on you had comet drops and all sorts of other inscrutable tasks going on - and with the Convention at Phobos, things had just gotten messier. We *could* have just bulldozed our way through that mess and gone straight in, the Star has the engine power and the navigational deflectors to do it, but that would be an unfathomable breach of Convention ettiquete.

Once the navicomp had digested our route data, I switched control over to the autopilot. "Okay Ptichka," I said to the console, "get us on our track and hold her steady. I'm going to get a drink, be back in five." The console chirped agreeably and I climbed out of my seat on my way down to the foredeck.

Climbing down from the flight deck I saw the rest of the crew hanging out, as per usual when we were in transit, in the foredeck lounge. The lounge is the only large common room on the ship (aside from the fight deck, but that's not the place to socialize) and as a result we tend to use it a lot. It's a bit cramped when we're running with a full crew, but considering half the Nation lives in converted cars I think we're pretty lucky.

The lounge is also the one place onboard that has a really good view of space. There are no real windows - the only windows are in the windscreen up on the flight deck - but after we glued some high-definition LCD matrix screens to the bay window from an old Airstream trailer and sprayed the whole unholy creation with handwavium, we had a beautiful 270-degree view of whatever was going on outside. It was _almost_ better than the real thing.

"What news from the front, O my captain?"

"I've got good news and bad news," I said as I hit the deck. "The good news is we're on track for Mars orbit, no hitches. The bad news is Phobos has heavy traffic, so we'll probably be stuck waiting to come in for a landing for the rest of the day."

That announcement brought a faint, but heartfelt, groan from everybody. Three weeks out at Saturn had made us appreciate the creature comforts of the inner system. _Ptichka_ is a lovely ship, but sooner or later you get tired of eating, drinking and bathing in nothing but handwavium recycle.

Our chief engineer shrugged philosophically. "Ah well," he said. "At least we'll get a chance to do some rubbernecking."

Which is what we set out to do. Or that's what they set out to do, anyway. I retrieved a root beer from the fridge and climbed back up to the flight deck to oversee the orbital insertion. Ptichka could've handled it without any input from me - that's what she was designed for - but as captain I figured that I should at least be there.

Initial insertion came off without a hitch. We'd started on Mars's night side, bounced our deflectors off the atmosphere for a second or two and settled into a nice looping orbit that would bring us into our parking spot in an hour or so. I sat in my comfortable pilot's chair, sipping on root beer and catching up on my reading while Ptichka did most of the hard work.

As we crossed over into the dayside I noticed we were starting to pick up more traffic. Cars, boats, planes and other cobbled-together spacecraft drifting around us. Through the hatch down to the lounge I could sort of hear the faint sound of snarky comments and laughter as the crew judged each craft on technical and aesthetic merits. I chuckled a bit and went back to my reading.

"HOLY SHIT!" The exclamation came from the lounge, jostling me out of book trance. The sound wasn't alarm, it was more... astonishment. I blinked and thumbed open the intercom.

"Something wrong down there?"

"Mal! Check it out, starboard near the planet!" That was Elena, our resident n00b and offical Person Who Remembers The Sense of Wonder. "I've never _seen_ a ship that big before!"

Curious, I took a glance outside the window, looking in the general direction Elena had said.

I have to admit, I was surprised.

About five clicks away off our starboard wing, moving maybe a few feet per second faster than us (some part of my mind idly wondered what the hell Phobos ATC was doing, grouping us so close like that) so it drifted by majestically instead of flashing past in a blur, was the biggest by-Cthulhu starship I had ever seen.

 _Ptichka_ is big as fen ships go, running 40 meters from nose to tail, 20 meters tall and a 25 meter wingspan. This thing had to be a good 150 meters long, with a 30 meter beam. In its previous life it must've been a container ship, with a long, flat foredeck and superstructure that looked like an office building glued to the stern. The old hull had been covered with what looked like armor plating, a forest of new and interesting antennae were mounted on the superstructure and best of all, there was a gigantic weapon mount of some kind attached to the forecastle.

"Look at that!" Elena shouted into the intercom as the megaship sailed past. "Isn't that something?"

"Yeah," I replied. "That is indeed something." I watched the ship go by in silence, looking for a name or registry number I could look up once we were docked at Phobos. I _had_ to get the story out of this one. The ship's stern came into view, two huge impressive-looking engines flanking the superstructure, and between them I could just about make out the ship's name painted on the fantail:

* * *

WDF WAYWARD SON  
SDF-17

* * *

One of the things I truly love is landing _Ptichka_ in front of people who don't expect it.

Now, _Ptichka_ has a very recognizable silhouette from a distance. Most people when they first see her actually think she's one of her more famous cousins. This has worked to our advantage once or twice, spooking folks who think the 'danelaw is approaching and bugging out fast. It's gotten us into a few impromptu firefights, too, but that's a story for another time. Still, the resemblance from a distance is striking; the distinctive black and white markings and double-delta wings are instantly recognizable to anybody familiar with the History of Spaceflight, 1961-2000.

The closer you get, the resemblance starts to fade a bit. Her lines are sharper, her nose a little more pointed, the big engine pods missing from the aft fuselage. Most people who don't know her history think that she's a mockup, a thrown-together copy built by fanboys without a proper reference guide. Which I suppose is true, from a certain point of view. She _is_ a copy, but she's the _finest_ copy 1986 Soviet aerospace technology could build of the finest rocketplane technology 1974 America had to offer.

Yeah, she can be a bit balky at times, and repairing stuff usually means whanging on it with a crescent wrench until it starts working again, but I swear to you that the combination of Soviet hardware and concentrated handwavium that is _Ptichka_ (formerly _Buran_ airframe #1.02) is damned near inde-fucking-structable.

She also makes one hell of an impression upon arrival. We passed into the main hanger deck and the double-takes made the extra five hours hanging out in the entry queue all the more worthwhile. Phobos Control knew us already, so they had a good parking slip already lined up.

We also had a couple of fans waiting for us. For reasons that I will never understand, _Ptichka_ has become something of a minor legend amongst certain fannish fractions. It probably has to do with our successful libertation of the ship from the mundane authorities. Most people use their old cars, buy some junker or kitbash their own hull; actually going out and _buying_ the Last Soviet Space Shuttle tends to attract some notice, even in Fenspace.

Everything from there moved more or less like we expected. We popped the hatch, greeted our adoring public, got ourselves and our shit out and ready to move, and grabbed the next turbolift up the hab levels. Once we'd hit the main level, we spent some of our hard-earned JPL money (plus a little bit of our JPL footage) on accomodations, got our stuff moved into the rooms, then hit the convention space drinks in hand, ready for action.

The first little bit was nothing more than people-watching with a bit of light networking. Saying hi to fen we hadn't seen in a while, talking to folks who knew us or knew _Ptichka_ , generally just taking a look at how the Nation had changed since the last time we'd been in the inner system. On the far pavillion the Pirate faction were busy setting up their recruitment center. Thankfully it looked like station security or the organizers were keeping the various ninja clans far away. The floor was starting to fill up, and stagehands were getting the big central stage ready for our benefactors, the mysterious SOS Brigade.

"So," I muttered to Calc, ship's sysadmin and legal counsel, "we ever figure out who these SOS guys are?"

Calc frowned. "Not exactly. They're Japanese, but they're not affiliated with the Otaking or any of the other major factions." He took a sip of his Martian faux-Glenlivet and continued. "As far as I can tell, they only just out here a few months ago."

"Huh, and they're already calling a Convention?"

"Yeah, and they've got a pretty definite agenda too." I would've replied to this bit, but just as I was about to ask what the SOS agenda was, chief engineer KJ interrupted with more pressing business.

"Hey, isn't that Gristle McThornbody from Fox over there?" Gesturing in the general direction of the press booth, where a pack of mundane newsmuppets (as opposed to the fan newsmuppets, who tended to be, well, _actual_ muppets. But I digress.) were busy jockeying for the best angle of the reception area to serve as background color. There in the thick of it, looking a bit green around the gills from all the gravity shifts between the hangar decks and the main living areas, was the blandly handsome face of the mundanes' finest Space Correspondent.

Excellent.

I handed my drink off to KJ. "Hold this, man. Be right back." I threaded my way through the crowds, getting closer and closer to the press area. As I drifted closer to the booth, I saw that McThornbody's camera light had just went on. Perfect. The booth was surrounded by gawkers, some waving into the cameras, others looking for the world like they wanted bags of popcorn to throw at the reporters. McThornbody was almost in reach, and I could hear him blathering into the camera about the Convention and the far-reaching implications.

Just as he got to the point in his script about "political backlash," I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "Oi! McThornbody!" I yelled cheerily as I proceeded to deck him with my free hand live on international TV. "That's for running out on the tab in St. Louis, you prick!"

Naturally, this caused a bit of a disturbance. Between the consternation of McThornbody's fellow reporters, the cheering of my fellow fans and McThornbody's bleating cries on the floor, the press booth suddenly got a *lot* livlier. I took advantage of the confusion to slip back into the crowd and back to my compatriots, who had apparently watched the whole thing unfold judging by the way they were nearly doubled over laughing.

* * *

Having settled accounts with the weasel from Fox, (which the overhead monitors were now showing on an endless loop) I turned to my crew and started making plans. "Okay kids, time to go mingle. We probably won't find out what we've been called in for tonight, so go have a good time and we'll meet back here once things start getting underway in earnest tomorrow." I noticed that I was already short a few; our resident married couple had already slipped off, either to one of the station's dance clubs or just back to their room. Meanwhile my tactical officer was diving into the crowd towards the Klingon contingent, bokuto out and ready for some friendly mayhem. "Assuming that you haven't already," I amended with a bit of a smirk.

KJ finished his beer in one gulp, tossed the empty into a handy recycler and turned towards the edge of the throng. "I'm gonna hit up the marketplace," he said. "Maybe see if I can't find some wilderness refueling gear for the lifesystem, or maybe get a Wii to replace the tactical computer while I'm at it."

"Good idea. Be sure to grab an icon for Ptichka while you're at it. You'll need the bribe if you're going to cut her open."

"Yeah, yeah..." KJ vanished into the crowd, heading for the market levels.

Calc looked thoughfully at the convention floor. "I think I'm going to hit up WARGH!" he didn't get the chance to finish his thought, as a gaggle of Senshi cosplayers emerged from the crowd, pounced on him and started dragging him away. Elena boggled. I just sighed and took a sip of my drink.

"Should've seen that one coming," I mused. I don't know what it is about him, but for some reason Calc always attracts this kind of female attention whenever we're in a highly populated area. As funny as these sorts of ambushes usually are, I still had a duty to protect my crew, so I whistled after the retreating Senshi. "OI! You lot, with the lawyer! Hold it a second!"

The cosplayers stopped and gave me a curious look. "Yeah?" demanded the tallest one.

"That guy's part of my crew! I want him returned intact, same species and same gender he was when you found him, y'hear?"

"What about hair color?"

I gave this due consideration. "That's negotiable!"

The cosplayers cheered. Calc might've groaned; I didn't hear it, but he certainly *looked* like he had. The Senshi dragged him away into a side alcove. I dedicated the rest of my drink to his health.

Elena eyed the crowd nervously. "Er, so what should I do?"

"Go mingle. Say hi, talk to 'em about stuff. You're a BNF, regale 'em with your heroic exploits around Saturn, and listen to them regale you with their heroic exploits. You know, the usual. Just keep your head and don't eat, drink, smoke or fuck anything that's more'n five percent handwavium by weight and you'll be fine."

"But I don't _know_ any of these people!"

"Bah, you probably know half of them through the Net, you just don't know what they look like." I gave her a bit of a push into the crowd. "Now g'wan! Scoot! It's a party, so have fun!" She gave me a bit of a dirty look as a group of stormtroopers swept her down towards the bar.

I swear, it's like being a den mother sometimes.

I finished my drink and started pushing my way through the crowd towards the more private bar near the SSX pavillion. Unless I missed my guess, that's where the SMOFs would be gathering, probably to hear the initial proposal from SOS.

That was about the point when all hell broke loose near the entrance.


	11. Chapter 11

**[Katz Schrödinger](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Katz_Schr%C3%B6dinger) **

Things started spiralling into their current way, shape, and form back when the movers and shakers Earthside finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to try and stick arriving and departing Fen with extra tax.

HUD, already having to handle some work they/we were getting by subcontracting it to a fair number of Fen, and being closest to having an actual structure, took a fair bit of their flak.

In fact, Hermes finally did sign some random kipple worth of official looking paperwork to get the vultures off our backs, whereupon most of us took nom-de-guerre and legally divorced our former identities.

Then we gave the administrative collective the equivalent of the finger by proceeding to ignore the US and most of Europe, and moving the brunt of our Earthside storage space and business deals to Australia.

Half a year later business was back to normal, and the quality of beer we were delivering was a lot better than it had been before, but bulk orders were coming in more and more often.

It was the next big project. An upscaling, upgrading, or whatever you'd like to call it.

Plus, it was a way to get out of having to deal with the paperwork generated by the friendly, but still formalized relationship Hermes now had with the Aussie authorities.

So, myself and a few others went scouting ... or so the official story goes. Personally, I spent a week catching the highs and lows of Down Under - something I'd been meaning to do before, but had never really found the time to properly indulge in.

Inspiration struck when I'd hit North Williamstown.

Unfortunately, friendly as we were with the admins, we weren't _that_ friendly.

Fortunately, we did find out that while the Victorian Railways H220 displayed there was the only H class locomotive of its type that had entered service, it had been intially intended to be joined by two more of its type. Sadly, construction was never completed, and the parts had likely been scrapped.

It took us the better part of three months to raid assorted scrapyards, make inquiries, and put together a Handwaviumfab unit big enough to deal with assembly and eventual manufacture of parts missing. Fortunately, there was more than enough documentation to peruse, and we didn't actually have to put in a working engine ...

... and I had to stop Trigon from torching Botany Bay, but that's another story altogether. Let's just say that he gets bored easily.

In the end, re-construction was completed in record time - though maybe not so record, considering that four Fen were actually sweating bullets to make it happen. Me? I was, err, supervising! Yes, that's it.

What?

Yeah, well, their kung-fu was better than mine for dealing with the matter at hand. Personally, if it doesn't deal with force-fields or things going boom in a spectacular manner, I'm usually tempted to hand it off to someone else.

Anyway, we gave the whole thing its handwavium paintjob, hooked as much free Solid State 'wavetech as we had on hand into where the boiler would have been, had we actually managed to get a full one, called it a night, and proceeded over to Sydney to raid its Chinatown.

After a night that would eventually start the 'five Fen walk into a bar' joke franchise - and a morning on which I woke up to much screaming, because it was also the night of the infamous guacamole dip caper - and getting our collective shit together in the morning (one gender-change, one scalification, one human-fly/spiderman act, one split, and, well, me) we made our way back to the dockside warehouse space we'd rented.

The six of us - yeah, six. Turns out the guy who'd brought the guacamole got himself an Evil Twin. Or should that be Good Twin? Meh - promptly proceeded to jawdrop and stare.

No, not just because of the fact that you'd have to be insane to wear a long, black, and obviously winter weight coat in Australia in the summer.

Well, whatever debate there eventually would have been as to who'd crew the newest member of the HUD flotilla was pretty much eliminated there and then. We'd have called her _Galaxy Express 999_ regardless, but this sort of made it more ... right. If you get what I'm saying.

And even now, none of us had even the foggiest as to where she'd come from. Nor did we have any desire to ask. Hell, given that she's got some sort of symbiotic relationship with the _999_ it's as likely as anything that all that handwavium in one place did a number on Reality. More of one than usual, at least.

"Katz."

Aaaand ... oh, hell.

Yeah, alright, the hug was nice. The frown that came after was worrying.

"Alright, what did I do this time?"

"Other than never calling?"

"Yes, other than never calling. You know I'm not a big fan of vidcom."

"Other than rarely even writing?"

"Err ..." I could have sworn I'd been keeping up with exchanges in that regard.

"People have been worried, you know? I actually needed to put together a storage buffer for your correspondence, because it keeps bouncing here for some reason."

I drew breath to defend myself before what she said registered. Wonderful. Well, that explains some things ...

"Damnit, Trigon!"

Yeah. I may be an ass, but I'd like to think I'm not that big an ass.

I promptly proceeded to beg, grovel, and explain myself.

"Well, you must be hungry," she finally said, cheerfully pretending to ignore the display. "Come, come. The kitchens just finished fixing a little something to tide us over until Phobos."

Whereupon Maetel proceeded to hook her arm around mine and direct me towards the dining cart.

* * *

Generally, I don't really trust the goop of the spaceways. Or maybe I'm not willing to trust in using _just_ the goop. I started out with Solid State 'wavetech. Hell, I airlifted and spacefared over those first few months with Solid State 'wavetech.

Call me sentimental.

Oh?

Yeah, well, you can work around those limitations ... or at least, I can. It's pretty much a given that, if you're working with any sort of 'wavium, you'll get some sort of package that lets you understand the stuff on a basic level. Running theory is harmonic resonance of the 'wavium with the user's aura or somesuch junk.

In other words, it's sort of a 'gadgeteer upgrade' I guess.

Or should that be 'mad scientist'? In some cases, definitely. Just look at the Prof. Make sure to wear sunglasses, though. That last detonation was damn bright.

I guess I got 'idiot savant', because ... okay, here's a secret. I don't really have clue on how these things work, beyond broad hints. Just about whether or not something will or won't. No, nothing like inspiration.

I've _felt_ inspiration. This isn't it.

This is ... well, this is me being the monkey sat in front of the typewriter and coming up with Macbeth after punching random keys.

For some reason, I do my best work with shields and other energy fields. It's how _Uncertainty_ got to orbit and back those first few times without any goop coating to keep the air in - navigational deflectors and a structural integrity field that doubled as containment - as well as the basis for her energy sails, among other things.

So I wasn't really making myself too comfortable - I knew the cars were isolated and had been 'wavium coated as the basis of the process. I also knew Maetel was about as likely to take risks about her passengers and cargo as it was for the Sun to fizzle out tomorrow, so that was some measure of comfort right right there.

Passengers? Yeah, well, tourists are a universal constant. Almost as much of one as Jenova's ... err ... Jehovah's Witnesses, and only slightly less annoying.

And if you've got those, you've got a fair number who want to travel in comfort and style. Two things that the _Galaxy Express_ has in spades, plus possibly the only automated 'wavium kitchen that produces not only edible but actually tasty results.

This is doubly true when there's been a Convention notice - there are always those who'd like to see how the Fen party. At the very least, reporters will show up. We've got a loosely defined deal with Space(formerly Sky) News Australia that makes us a pretty penny in petty cash whenever there's something up in the lands of Above and Beyond.

We came up on Phobos in a matter of hours, without many delays - another reason to travel with the supplies would be that it gets you to the head of the queue without much fuss. The admins know well enough how rowdy and ... inventive ... a gathering of Fen low on snackage can get - and got directed into the main hangar space where the cargo was unloaded and the passengers were welcomed by the first site of most likely the biggest damn cave they'd ever seen.

It didn't really have artificial gravity - too little use for it, really - so we had to deal with a few cases of space-sickness before we got going.

"Now, a few basic rules for those who've not been in open Fenspace before," Maetel was lecturing as we floated over to the lifts. "Staring is considered either rude or complimentary on a case-by-case basis, but nobody will likely object to pictures. If you don't know what it is, you really shouldn't touch it ..."

"Or eat it, or drink it, or poke it with a stick," I chimed in. We were hit with a solid Gee of acceleration which promptly turned into a comfortable point eight worth of artificial gravity when the turbolift equivalent brought us to the promenade deck.

"Yes, or all that. Also, 'do not enter' signs are usually there for a reason."

"Frankly, considering the odds, you'll be considered lucky to just find hard vacuum on the other side."

"Quite. Peanut gallery, please be quiet," she said, amusedly, as we vacated the lift. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes scanning around for things and people of interest while she finished, and directed the gaggle of mundies to an information booth. The few Fen who'd caught a ride with the Express for one reason or another quickly ignored that and mingled.

We finally had a bit of space to ourselves, and must have made for a bit of a peculiar image - Maetel was wearing a white version of her usual, looking all aloof and composed, while I was playing contrast by being decked out in black casual and being my usual scruffy self.

"So, do you have any plans?" I asked as we made our way through the still sparse Fendom. More would be arriving by the minute, but the promenade was large enough that it wouldn't become cramped for a while yet.

And _somebody_ had supplied the overhead screen-ceiling - which usually furthered the illusion of open space for Phobos' inhabitants by virtue of projecting Mars' sky based on tranmissions being relayed from one of the surface outposts - with imagery from Saturn.

Nifty.

"Oh? No, none, really. The _Galaxy Express_ and I are here for the duration and already booked for the return trip, or so I suppose," she replied, before we were interrupted.

* * *

Well, now I remember another reason as to why the Express is 'parked' in the main bay pending unloading.

Fendom, despite occasional claims to the contrary, is prone to just as many foibles as the mundies. One of the most annoying being what I term the Pirhana Effect. Also trope-d as Give-Them-A-Finger-And-They'll-Take-Your-Arm-Off. Or at least it should be.

Employing a mixture of three skills essential to every Con-goer ( _dum dum dum dum dum dum_ ) - the Nothing-Wrong-Here-Smile, the Elbows-Of-Poking, and the Art-Of-Crowd-Step - we finally managed to make our way out of the throng of rabid Matsumotoites.

Usually, I don't mind these guys. Hell, Scales was one of them back when we were working on the Express, and probably still is.

Come to think of it, that was easier than I thought it'd be.

Oh.

"We did not just see Mal decking ..." I started, the reconsidered my statement. The 'sky' proceeded to repeat the recording of the incident in a short loop.

Yup.

There was Mal.

There was Mal's fist.

"No, I think we did," Maetel corrected with a laugh, then stood on her toes and gave the conquering hero a small wave over the top of the crowd.

"Well, here's to familiar faces, then."

Hmm, and there was the [Village of Hidden Asteroid](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Village_Hidden_in_Asteroids), in the process of setting up their stand as close to the middle of the promenade's far end as they'd managed to wrangle from Phobos' representatives. I meant that literally. Far as I could tell, they were using that antigrav kitbash I sent their way last time I was visiting - because, hey, cute asian girls in skimpy ani-ninja wear? Yeah.

Though how the hell they expected people to be able to get up there, I had no idea. Should occur to them in a few minutes, methinks.

It was still a bit until ... well, whatever that stage was there for would be happening, or so the so called 'schedule' we'd snagged on the lift said, and I'd never been much for mingling.

"Schrodinger!"

Damn. So much for random timesinks. Apparently, Phobos admins still remembered me.

"This'll take a while, I think. You might want to get out of the blast radius," I shrugged at Maetel's inquisitive look, before she caught my meaning and trailed off as to not be caught in whatever it was that was heading this way.

Yup, that looked like what passed for the locals' uniform. Or close enough to it, at least.

I proceeded to spend the next half-hour sprouting assurances that, yes, the _Uncertainty_ was here but Trigon was properly secured and entertained and, no, he wouldn't try reenacting the tunnel run from Return of the Jedi in Phobos' interior.

Again.

Gah.


	12. Chapter 12

The SDF-1 had aroused considerable attention I guess, because no sooner had I parked on Phobos than I heard talk about it... well, no. Talk about rival projects to upstage the upstarts.

"...submarines," explained a fen wearing a reasonable fascimile of a Star Force uniform. "Then we go down there and build air tanks inside the ship and fill them with hydrogen. The added bouyancy will lift the Yamato to the surface and we can get to work."

I frowned. "Interesting idea, but offhand, wasn't the Yamato broken in half when it sank? Do you really want to spend a month in the 'Danelaw just welding it back together?"

He looked like he might cry. "But, but it would be so cool!"

"That's true," I said. "Let me think... maybe you should use a more accessible ship? I think..." I pulled out what had started life as a Gameboy and now acted as a remote for the computers back in my car. "Aha. Scapa Flow!"

I got a blank look. "The German High Seas Fleet was scuttled there in 1919," I explained. "The ships there should be in much better condition than ships that were sunk in battle. Most of them were raised for scrap but there are three Konig-class battleships still down there. The only problem would be that they're not in international waters, so the salvage laws would be different. Do you know anyone in that part of the world?"

Half-an-hour later I had some details to forward to my sister back on the Earth and a percentage for negotiating a purchase price off the German or British governments (whichever was owner these days) for the ships. It's not like it would cost them anything to let the Fen's go collect some scrap metal that had been deemed too inaccessible to recover for most of a century.

Things like that can really mess up the relationship between the Fendom and the 'danelaw since neither side seems to really understand why the other does anything (with a few exceptions). After running afoul of several legal problems shortly after I fixed up a no-longer-roadworthy Vauxhall Cavalier with some handwavium, I'd finallly come to an agreement with my-sister-the-tax-accountant and started a career that seems to be someplace between bounty hunter and lawyer these days.

The Jaime Retief, as I call her, doesn't really look much different from the other vehicles parked inside one of Phobos' outer caves/parking-garages. The paintjob had gone from a dirty-blue to the sort of rainbow effect that you can get in oil when the light catches it right, and it moved and formed shapes at times. I'm told that when I'm inside it it moves faster, but I can barely see it at that point. The wheels don't spin any more, in fact they fold up into the undercarriage when I don't need them for landing gear. The fact is that the doors don't open either, so I generally enter or leave through driver's side window. And for some reason, the roof always looks like a Confederate Flag when I do that. At least the computer stopped whistling dixie everytime I had a new email.

"Hey, General Lee!" called one of the girls behind the Venus Terraforming Project. I could tell that she was involved in that by the seifuku - don't ask. Let's just say that despite the VTP being well behind it's Martian rival due to the much greater technical challenges, there was a great enthusiasm for helping the girls with anything that they wanted for it. I'd have been more enthusiastic if they didn't call me 'General Lee' all the time.

"Hey there," I answered her. "And how can I help my favorite Sailor Senshi today?"

"How about helping us in a little mission for love and justice?" she asked brightly and I felt my stomach sinking. That sort of request never boded well, not from femme-fens whose ships were saccharine enough to appear in Care-Bear cartoons.

The man stood in the middle of the cluster of seifuku-clad women didn't seem anything like as happy as most Fen woul be to be in that position. Occasional frictions aside, they're really very good company and not for just the obvious reasons. They're also in the position of being just a little picky about who they choose to hang around with (being better than eighty percent female in membership) so I got a couple of jealous looks as the young lady towing me by one arm led me into their circle.

"What's with Fox Mulder?" I asked, tilting my head towards the suited man. "Still looking for the truth?"

She giggled. "No, he's from the Dear."

"Dear?" I enquired, not recognising that as a name.

"It's an acronym," she said. "You know, D, E, A? Dear!"

"Ah, right," I said. And reminded myself yet again that while she might sound like an airhead, there was a very good chance that she was just putting it on to be cute. Terraforming Venus was proving to be orders of magnitude harder than Mars, but there was a reason that I'd been confident enough to arrange financial backing for them. (I sold lots of land on Venus for a few dollars a square mile. Thus far the project was well in the black despite having sold off an area only about as large as Texas).

"Mr. Scott?" she gushed brightly at the G-Man. "This is the General Lee. He's ever so good at solving problems for us and I'm sure he'll be able to help you."

Ohhhkay. What the heck was up here? Why would the DEA be interested in up here that they would need me for? There was probably a little drug trade up here, but I'd never gotten involved in it myself and it was a drop in the barrel compared to the issues that went on down under the 'Danelaw.

"General?" he asked, sounding more than a little dubious himself. It was hard to blame him. I'm not sure what he was expecting but someone wearing blue jeans and a 'Join Galactor' T-shirt under a battered biker jacket that had once been fire-engine red was almost certainly not it.

"My other car is an orange Dodge Charger," I explained. (This was technically correct - but I hadn't had time to fit it out yet, so it was parked somewhere secure until I could get a few parts and some more handwavium). "I go by Mr. Johnson around your part of the universe, Mr. Scott. But I have to wonder what brings a federal agent out here."

He nodded his understanding. "I wish I could say I was pleased to be here, Mr. Johnson. Under other circumstances I might be."

Then he leaned forwards and in a voice that I could barely hear over the sound of the Convention, said something I had hoped never to hear.


	13. Chapter 13

"Yo boss! We're almost there."

I looked up and almost laughed in relief. No matter how much one likes to laugh, reading bad jokes and horrible puns to an engine gets boring fast. This is especially true if you're coming from the edge of a system and all the way to Phobos, which, because the Schrottplatz is pretty much always dreadfully slow, takes a lot of time.

I gave the great big book of jokes and puns to Gramps and he continued reading from it, bursts of increased speed indicating when the engine was 'laughing'. I turned around and ran out and towards the cockpit praying that none of the drones had taken the initiative of hailing Phobos station yet. My prayers were for naught when I arrived and saw one of Penny's colleagues trying to sell someone "prime farming land on Pluto" over the communicator.

With a low growl, I pushed the drone back and whispered, "Stop that. I don't need to get another fine for clogging up the comm. channels."

I turned back to the over glorified handwavied radio we called a communicator, "Sorry about that." and cut the communication.

I then called Phobos station to notify them of our arrival and sat back for the wait.

Finally, after a few hours, we flew to our designated dock. We had barely landed that several drones ran out of the ship and started setting up kiosks. Of note were the Capitalistic Drones and their "Alcohol, snacks, and anything your heart might desire" stand with a pile of odds and ends behind it. There was also our 'official' stand, that is, the one that advertised our services.

A large part was dedicated to our expertise at construction of replicas, with pictures of our two most notable projects, the federation starbase replica in orbit of Pluto, and our 1/100 replica of an Imperial Star Destroyer. The stand was manned by a varied assortment of drones, including the 'trekkie' group and the stormtrooper drones.

Once I had conducted a quick review of that stand, I took a look around, and noticed a genuine pitchfork and torches mob. I was starting to wonder where the mob had found such antique equipment when I noticed a duo of my drones selling them to onlookers. I was in the process of stomping over to stop them when the crowd suddenly ran away from a psychotic nut job with a gun instead of a hand.


	14. Down In Callahan's Bar

The first rule of any convention, big or little, is if you want to know what's going on, stake out the bar first thing. That's where the real powers behind the Nation lurk: the pros, the SMOFs and the random drunks.

Okay, not so much the random drunks.

Anyway, the best place to get accurate information on what's happening behind the scenes at a Convention is to go to the bar, buy a beer or two and eavesdrop. Most of the conversation will be about the usual irrelevant shit, maybe the occasional dirty joke you haven't heard before, but you'll also get plenty of information about the current SMOF pecking order and other tidbits that help form a big picture about the current state of fen politics.

So that's what I did. I got into Callahan's, grabbed a stake at the bar and listened to the SMOFs talk. Since the Convention wasn't scheduled, there was more political talk than usual.

The first thing I noticed was that the SMOFs seemed to be just as much in the dark about the Convention as the rest of us. That was a bit troubling. I wasn't expecting to hear the entire nefarious plot from beginning to end over a pitcher of margaritas, but still. Apparently the SOS Brigade were keeping a low profile until tomorrow's morning session. Unusual,, that. Most Convention organizers at least make a token appearance on the first day, welcome folks, thank them for coming, the usual.

The other thing I kept hearing were dark mutterings about the raiders on the edge of the system. That got my attention. We hadn't seen any raiders on our Saturn expedition - the area's not developed, and besides Ptichka's more than capable of defending herself - but we'd heard the rumors about ice miners and rockrats vanishing from the Main and Kuiper belts.

I was leaning in, trying to get a better read on the conversation, when somebody joggled my elbow. Not an unusual thing in a crowded bar, but this had the feel of somebody deliberately trying to get my attention. I turned and took a look at the responsible party.

My first impression was "boy, this guy's is is the wrong place." He was young, late teens or early twenties maybe, Japanese, in a suit and tie that was *completely* out of place with his surroundings and he was looking at me with this sort of little half-smile, like he knew something I didn't.

(captain fnord?) he asked over the din.

(i could be,) I replied. (who's asking?)

(my name is koizumi itsuki, with the sos-dan. may i speak with you privately, please?)

Well now! Here I was trying to get some intel on the mysterious SOS, and what should happen but one of the members comes up and wants to talk to me. Truly, the gods of fortune smile upon my honky ass. I held up a palm, finished off my beer and said (just a second.) I spun back to face the bartender. (mike!)

Mike glanced at me. I jerked my head towards the back rooms. He nodded, gave me a thumbs-up and went back to tending bar. I stood up and motioned Koizumi towards the back. (step into my office.)

We wound our way through the crowded bar until we reached the back rooms. I opened the door, motioned Koizumi through, then entered. Once inside with the door closed, the overwhelming noise cut off like I'd thrown a switch.

"Much better," I said. "Now, Mr. Koizumi, you and your 'SOS-dan.' You're quite the talk of the Convention, you know. Calling one under the emergency clause, then staying quiet about your motives. To say nothing about the initial notice."

"Ah, yes. That." Koizumi had the good grace to look embarrased. "Miss Suzumiya, our leader, wrote that and had it translated herself. Her written English isn't the best and she refused to let others proof it. She can be... willful." He seemed to be putting some emphasis on the last word.

"No foolin'. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I was sent here to request your assistance."

"Uh huh. My assistance in?"

"We - that is, the SOS-dan - would like you and your crew to support Miss Suzumiya's initiative tomorrow. More to the point, we would like you to support the initiative even if it fails to win the vote."

I blinked. That was not quite what I had expected. "Why us?"

Koizumi gave me that damnable half-smile. "Not only you, Captain. My associates are contacting other independent fen as well. In your case, you and your crew are famous, Captain," he said. "You have a quite large following, even if you don't care to notice it yourself. Your ship, the... exploits involved in acquiring it, your adventures since... well." He shrugged. "Also, you, your crew and your ship have certain skills that may be necessary."

I shook my head. "Okay, wait one minute kid. Before you go any further, would you mind telling me what your boss's proposal *is* first?"

So he told me. The story leading into it was elliptical in the telling but pretty straightforward in the gist. Apparently the SOS-dan had lucked into some sort of intelligence about the raiders; bases, numbers, goals, something like that. Instead of giving the intel to Starfleet or SSX, this Suzumiya woman had decided to instead use it as leverage to form a sort of multifractional taskforce to deal with the raiders. He finished his summation with that classic line beloved by politicans everywhere, "May the SOS-dan count on your support?"

I thought about it. "I don't rightly know," I said. "What you're proposing is... big. Really big. Without a clearer danger I doubt your boss will be able to push this through the full vote. We've all got enough rocks in our ruck without signing on to this crusade or whatever."

Koizumi nodded. "In truth, I don't expect it to pass," he said. "However, Miss Suzumiya was insistent, and I've found it wise to just, ah, let her do her thing."

"As for me and my crew," I continued, "I'm not sure. I admit that I'm tempted. If it was just me and Ptichka..." I shook my head. "But it isn't. I won't speak for my crew in this, they'll have to decide for themselves."

"Of course," Koizumi replied. "Perfectly understandable. When might we be able to hear a decision from your crew?"

I gave it a little thought. "Your boss is going to make her proposal tomorrow morning, right? You or somebody else from SOS can swing by and hear our decision an hour or so before the opening session. We're making base camp on the 33rd floor of Hab Block D."

Koizuma bowed. "I shall do so. Thank you, Captain, for allowing me to state my case."

I didn't return the bow, but gave him a coridal nod. "Best of luck in your future endeavours, Mr. Koizumi."

Koizumi left the room, letting a brief blast of noise and half a verse of "Banned From Argo" ("we're the Federation's finest, and our record is our pride") into the room. I leaned up against the wall, trying to sort through everything Koizumi said, everything he *didn't* say, and trying to make sense of it.

One: Based on what I'd heard earlier in the bar, along with other rumours, the raiders were getting bolder and more organized with each attack. Even if they're just hitting rockrats and the ice stations, sooner or later - presume sooner - they'd be a threat to the big Inner System stations: Phobos, Deimos, Luna, Stellvia, the Island, ISS.

Two: Like it or not, the belt miners *are* our primary economic link to Earth. Without the metals trade, our economy crashes.

Three: SSX usually keeps the Main Belt free of hostiles. If they're having trouble, losing ships, then it's probably something too big for any one fraction to handle on their own.

Primary hypothesis: Suzumiya is right, and some sort of multifactional force is needed.

However... Four: SSX Base hasn't admitted to losing ships in combat yet. But the SOS Brigade knew. The Brigade has been off-Earth less than a year, maybe less than six months. How did they know? Pirates don't blab no matter how drunk you get them, and certainly not about something like *that*.

Five: Koizumi said they were seeking out specific free agents. Not asking the faction leaders for assistance.

Secondary hypothesis: This is a setup. Either SOS is trying to lead fandom into an ambush, or they're the catspaw for another entity trying to do same.

Question: Cui bono? Fandom's made a lot of enemies since the wave hit, a lot of them have the money and talent necessary to play this kind of game. Whoever's behind the raiders (or SOS) could be... almost any of them.

Tertiary hypothesis: One way or another, the answers lie with the SOS-dan. The logical option would be to play along until the truth is out.

I sighed. Just enough information to make me curious, but not enough to come to a proper conclusion. Koizumi was either that good, or I was that gullible. Probably a combination of both.

In any case, I wasn't my own master anyway. My crew needed to know what was up. I pulled out my cell and dialed the ship. "Ptichka, get the others, have them meet me back at the hangar. Something's come up."

  
So I slip out of Callahan's and I'm on my way back to the Star to brief the crew on the SOS-dan's intentions when I'm jumped by a fan.

Jumped by a fan at a Convention. Yeah, I know. Big shocker there. But this fan was... unique.

I heard somebody call out my name behind me. The voice was high, young, female with a bit of something synthetic behind it. I turn around, and I'm expecting something like a 15 year old Warsie in stormtrooper gear who wants me to sign something. I tell you true, I was not expecting what happened next.

"OMG Captain Mal! I'm like, *so* your biggest fan! I read all the stuff about you in National Geographic and I've seen all your documentaries and it's like, wow!" My interlocutor was a spindly, flat-topped robot, rolling along on six small wheels. A mast toppped with twin cameras at right about my eye level looked at me as the 'bot unfolded her manipulator arm in friendly greeting. "I'm Opportunity! Nice to meet you!"

Never let it be said that Captain S. Malaclypse Fnord of the good ship Ptichka is an ungracious boor. I took Opportunity's manipulator and gave it a friendly, um, handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Opportunity," I declared. "As it happens," I added in a bit more confidential tone, "I'm something of a fan of yours as well."

Opportunity's cameras swiveled. "Really?" she asked. "Cool! We need to, like, do a book or something together! I can write and you can take pictures!"

I smiled. "You know, that's actually not a bad idea," I said. "Do you have a phone number or something handy? I'm sorry to be in a rush, but I've got to meet with the crew and I'm kind of pressed for time..."

"Oh, no problem! No problem! Just call the Terraforming Office and ask for me, I'm always on-call. It was nice meeting you!" I signed her just-bought copy of 'Lonely System: Ceres' and she rolled away happily, drawing stares from even the more jaded fen.

I turned back to the path towards the hangar deck when lo and behold I found two of my crew standing there with bemused expressions on their faces. I guess they came in near the end of that exchange. "So what was that about?" asked Zib. Kat didn't say anything, she just gave me that look, the one where she didn't know what the hell was going on, but was impressed all the same.

"Oh, just another one of our adoring fans," I said breezily, grabbing them both by the arm and pulling them into the crowd. "I'll tell ya though, this place gets weirder every fucking year."


	15. Unique Solutions to Crowd Control

You know, if there's anything a random mob is good for, it's a distraction. Especially when you're feeling as parched as I was after nearly half an hour's worth of talking.

I slipped away in the confusion, the admins' representative not really noticing because, hey, that was one really freakin' big mob. Farming implements included.

There's quite a few things that can rouse up that much animation in Fen, but not many make them do the 'storming the castle' routine. Off the top of my head, the only one I could think of to get that sort of response was the Professor.

Oh.

It _was_ him.

Trigon's going to bitch at me for locking commo.

Still, the authority figure's attention wasn't going to stay stuck to those guys indefinitely, and I'd promised to buy someone dinner when we got here. Not the day after, which would likely be the result if I didn't do a little disappearing magic.

Unfortunately, the only things I had on me wouldn't be of much use in this situation.

I needed crowd control. And not neccessarily in the traditional sense.

Which was when I spotted the droids and their merchandise, or rather, a particularly patterned set of round metallic cylinders that had roughly the dimensions of a can of soda. I proceeded to trot over, pressing my way through the influx of Fen who, of course, were heading for the disturbance.

I swear, bloody lemmings.

Shelling out a few credits, and noting that the flunkie had remembered I was supposed to be there to be chewed over but now wasn't, I stowed most of the 'cans' in my vest pockets.

Leaving me with one in particular.

Now, if I've got this right ...

Pop the pin, wind back, toss it so it arcs gracefully over the gathered Fen while shouting the one thing I knew would get the android's attention:

"EMP! Everybody cover!"

... then ducking down and slinking away when the Fen collective flinched and the Professor's boomstick carrying escort blew it out of the air.

There was the *pop* of decompressing air, and the Pantsu Grenade (tm - Happosai H Manufacturing) erupted over the crowd, scattering silky little nothings ...

I leave the reactions to your imagination, only saying that I doubted they'd be bothering with finding me with this on their hands.

Then I went to look for Maetel.

  
"But the costume's great! You look really really really like her! You should totally take part in the ..."

It happens every time, without fail. Somebody new gets involved in the cosplay section of a Con and tries to convince her to enter, thinking Maetel's in costume.

To my knowledge, she never has.

I gave a brief gesture from behind the fuku-ed bundle of bubbly enthusiasm that's pulled the short straw of asking her this time, and quirked an eyebrow in question.

Maetel shook her head.

Hmm. Alright. Nah.

I've had my share of distraction and misdirection for the hour, as tempting as the concept of raiding the back of the Warsies' stand and slotting Queen's 'Bicycle Race' into their PA is.

Stormtrooper armor may look imposing, and is even effective most of the time since all but a few have since 'gooped' theirs, but visibility through those helmets really sucks.

Besides, Trigon did that last year.

Well, luckily I subscribe to the waste not, want not way of thinking.

I walked up behind the Senshi - Prvt. 1st Class, judging from the pips on the edge of the rear ribbon. Such a nice rear ... ahem ... - and tapped on her shoulder in the middle of another sales pitch.

"Meep."

Or something in the direction. Alright, so to somebody around five foot five I can pretend to be imposing.

"Excuse me, miss. Are these yours?" I asked.

Whereupon I drew a pair that had drifted my way after the Pantsu Grenade had decompressed from inside my utility vest. Hmm. Black lace.

First she went "Eeeeek" then she went all red, only to finally snatch the panties from me and dash off into the crowd with a squee of "Pervert!"

I shrugged. Well, that had worked better than I'd expected it to.

"It wouldn't really feel right," she said as we walked down the promenade, away from the throng and in search of somepleace to get some decent food and drink. And no, for this one, Phobos' local Fenway didn't really count. "Though maybe next time, I should go as my sister?"

I paused and blinked. Then smiled. "Sure, if you think you'll have fun with it."


	16. Chapter 16

I look over the crowd which has degenerated into utter chaos, trying to find out where that many pitchforks had come from when I notice a pair of Drones selling them and a guy trying to hide them. Igniting my rocket boots I fly towards the guy, my lab-coat billowing dramatically behind me, while calling out: "Hey! You there!"

^_^

The instant the.... panty grenade (didn't the drones buy a box of those?) exploded, I knew that the authorities would come by later, so I rushed to the drones and started trying to hide the proof, or at the very least get them to stop waving it in the air and trying to sell it. I suddenly heard a loud whoosh, "Hey! You there!" Hoping that, against all odds, I was not the one being addressed, I turn my head and, aghast, saw a man flying, with genuine rocket boots, towards me.

I probably shouldn't have been surprised, I could probably cobble up something similar with liberal applications of handwavium, but the chances of meeting someone crazy enough to use rocket boots are just... beyond understanding. I had spent a full minute in flabbergasted surprise when I suddenly recognized the man and let out a loud mental scream, "Fuck, the Professor. Quick, have to hide the drones somehow."

And, of course, the drone with the pitchforks chose that moment to pipe up, "Greetings good sir. Would you be interested in one of our genuine wood pitchfork and torch combo? It's our lynch mob special right now, 25% off if you buy both."

Landing in front of me and looking me over we an unreadable expression, he says. "I assume these drones are yours?"

I look down at the drone, sigh, and reply, "Yeah, I guess so."

He suddenly grabs my hand and pump's it while congratulating me on a job well done. "Excellent for setting the mood, I really must commend your work. Lynch mobs just aren't the same without torches and pitchforks."

^_^

Weaving through the crowd who where getting out of my way for some reason, really I didn't expect fen to be this easily intimidated, I followed after the Professor. Only to see him shaking the hand of some blond guy who looks somewhat nervous and completely befuddled. He must have heard one of the bad rumors about the Professor. At least he looks harmless and the mob doesn't look like it will reform, so I shift back to normal mode.

I guess I better help this guy out, the Professor can be a bit overwhelming at times, especially when you are not used to him. Grabbing the Professor's shoulder I introduce him and myself.

^_^

I knew, or rather had heard, that the Professor was odd, but getting congratulated for setting the right mood for his own lynch mob just caused my brain to do the biological equivalent of a GPF error and I couldn't do much more than mumble thanks as my arm was shaken. Thankfully, someone grabbed the Professor's shoulder and interrupted him long enough for my brain to reboot. I turned my head and saw that the psycho from earlier had put her gun-arm away, "I'm sorry the Professor gets a little excited sometimes. My name is Miyu, and this is the Professor, you probably have heard about him already."

Although she was polite, the way she looked at me gave the distinct feeling that she somehow felt that I was just an insect and should be glad she lowered herself to talk to me. For a moment I had to fight the urge to reprogram her with a sledgehammer and a monkey wrench. Outwardly, I only smiled, "Hello Miyu. I'm Laurent Veilleux, Captain of the Schrottplatz. I did hear much about the Professor, but little of it was flattering, so I'm withholding judgment for now."

The torch drone handed Miyu and the Professor business cards reading, "Schrottplatz Transportation and Construction Company. Fine suppliers of your heart's desire since 2010."

^_^

"Put one little death ray on the Eiffel tower and they never let you forget it." Mumbled the Professor. I ignored him and took the card, so he'd been one year in business then. "It's a pleasure to meet you Captain Veilleux. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?" I ask gesturing to the cafe of to the side, doing the bare minimum of politeness. After all we had accosted him, not the other way around.

^_^

I was going to reply, but I noticed that the drones seemed to be plotting together and gesturing the Professors way. Deciding to pre-empt further trouble, I turned to them, "And you two, that's enough trouble. Get back to the ship right now."

They seemed to be thinking of refusing to obey me, but I had pulled my monkey wrench from my belt and was not very discrete in my intentions towards them. They wisely chose to run off. I turned back to the Professor and Miss Psycho, "Coffee would be great, thank you."

As we settled down in the cafe Miyu went to get our orders, the Professor tried to strike up a conversation with me. "Lau, do you mind if I call you Lau? Anyway Lau those are fascinating drones you have there, how do you power them? They seem to have excellent initiative, what algorithm did you use for the Alpha-Beta pruning?"

The Professor seemed to be the sort to ask questions without stopping for answers, so I quickly interrupted him, "I don't mind Lau. The drones use a power source of their own devising; they used to just run around with extension cords behind them. And I have no idea what Alpha-Beta pruning is, but as for their initiative, well, I had built a few of them and one day, they started exchanging ideas and, before I could react, they had modified each other beyond whatever plans I had for them."

I sighed, "To be perfectly honest, Professor, I don't understand them anymore. They are an experiment that spun wildly out of control. They even reproduce for christ's...!" My mind caught up to what I was saying and I sighed again, "Sorry about that."

"Ah the power of Science, no need to be sorry, I am a fellow man of Science! I understand how frustrating it is to not being able to gather all the data on your creations, but that is the beauty of SCIENCE! Eventually we all need to let our creations go into the wide world, but there is always the next experiment!" The Professor got up and was pacing around waving my arms for emphasis. "Trust in the Power of SCIENCE!"

I looked dubiously at the Professor, "Science? Cobbling together whatever I can scrounge up from various junkyards and coating it with several coatings of Handwavium is science?" I shook my head, "I really don't think it is Professor. I'm far from Scientist material. I'm just a guy who was tired of washing the dishes and built drones to do it for him, nothing more, nothing less."

"But of course it is Science, you formed a hypothesis, that handwavium could animate drones to do the dishes, and tested it by building the. Oh sure it was just a small step for mankind, but we can't all be Neil Armstrong. By gradually advancing step-by-step we push forward the boundaries of knowledge! That is the power of SCIENCE!"

At that point Miyu returned with the drinks, interrupting the professors rant before it could really get started. "Oi Prof! We are done on our end. How did your meeting with those SOS-dan people go?" Asked a pink haired girl in some sort of uniform, shouting to be heard over the crowd as she and a blue haired girl headed towards us.

"Their leader appreciates the power of SCIENCE!" Answered the professor at an unnecessary volume now that they where sitting down next to us, drawing quite a bit of attention from the crowd, especially since many where wondering about the mysterious SOS-dan.

"Catty, Ryoko this is Captain Laurent Veilleux. Captain Veilleux, this is Catty Nebulart," Miyu interjected, gesturing towards the pink haired girl, "and that is Ryoko Asakura." Gesturing this time to the smiling girl with long blue hair in a schoolgirl uniform.

I rose an eyebrow at the mention of the organisation that called the convention. The Professors reaction, though, made me think that their leader might be as odd as him. I had to check though; maybe I was simply mistaken, "Is that leader you mention as..." I tried to find a more diplomatic word than odd, "enthusiastic as you are?"

I should probably have asked about the goals of the organisation instead but, to be perfectly honest, I didn't really care all that much and could wait patiently for them to tell me on their own.

"Haruhi-sama is one of the rare few that understand the greatness of my work, her enthusiasm is even greater than mine. She is truly an inspiration, if only there were more leaders with her vision." Said the Professor. I did notice that all three of the Professors assistant reacted to the honorific. In Miyu's case it was a rising of the eyebrows, Her expression showing surprise. Catty blinked and seemed pleased about something, but Ryoko reacted the most. She froze, only for a moment and her serene smile never slipped, but now I could see it for the mask it was.

"Sama? Isn't that an awfully respectful form of address for the leader of an organisation he isn't even a member of?" I thought. And judging by the reactions of the Professor's androids, I wasn't the only one to think so. It was at that point that my brain caught up to the rest of the sentence, "Greater!!!"

Only a slight sharpening of my breathing betrayed my horror at the thought of someone being worse than the Professor.

It was at that point that I noticed that my silence would soon stretch too far, "Really? She sounds like a very... impressive person."

"Oh she is. I hope you will support her tomorrow." Before the professor could continue though someone behind me called out. "Laurent old buddy! How have you been? Won't you introduce me to these three beauties here?"

I definitely knew that voice, and a glance confirmed it. Roguish smile, red hair, a rifle on the back and so, bloody, tall. I waved without turning around and replied, "Hey Taesha, meet Miyu, Ryoko, Catty and the Professor." I pointed to each person as I named them.

I then looked at the Professor and his assistants and hooked my thumb back towards Taesha, "Don't mind her, she's just likes attention"

"So, how's been life treating you these days?" I finally turned around to look at Taesha, and noticed that she had stopped listening to me at some point, instead openly leering at Miyu.

Miyu just looked Taesha over and deliberately schooled her features into a dismissal while answering in a frosty but polite tone "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Taesha." While making it abundantly clear that this was not the case.

"Oh no the pleasure is all mine. What do you say to a little private meeting, just the two of us?"

"I would be delighted, however I have a duty to protect the Professor."

"Oh don't worry yourself on my account Miyu. Go and have some fun for a change."

"Of course professor. In that case I'll finish the report for the Beta-404 series of tests. After all I'm sure I can persuade Taesha to volunteer for a few tests." Agreed Miyu her voice much warmer than before but with a strong undercurrent of danger. The psychotic little smile on her face caused half the fen in attendance to take a step back.

"Gulp, eh why don't we stay here for a bit, I am curious about these SOS-dan people." Answered a suddenly very nervous looking Taesha.

"I believe that is my cue." said a smiling guy in a business suit as he stepped forward. "My name is Itsuki Koizumi, and I am a member of the SOS-dan."

"Ah Koizumi a pleasure to meet you again." Said the Professor as he got up, "Unfortunately duty calls, and I must get back to work. Please convince these people of the rightness of our cause in the name of SCIENCE!"

"Captain Veilleux, it was a pleasure to meet you. Taesha" Said Miyu getting up and giving a short bow to both of us.


	17. Going to the Store

I casually waved to Mal as I wandered off to the marketplace; given his inclinations he was going to go track down news of what was going on. Fine by me, really... there were a few things that I wanted to try to find. For instance, I heard that Red Steel was neat, and I wanted to get a Wii. Oh, and processors for biological stuff. I could probably tinker something together, but it wasn't really my area of expertise and I'd much prefer to work on stuff that was more fun.

Of course, before that I snagged another beer, as wandering around without a drink in hand at this point in the con would almost be against protocol. The various stalls setup were featuring all sorts of wares, both mundane and not. Which was all well and good, and would provide hours of browsing entertainment later, but right now I wanted to get my Wii. While I'd made reservation arrangements while we were enroute, there was probably going to be enough of a demand for the things that it might get sold out from under me.

"Hey Dee," I muttered, apparently to thin air. A 3" tall holographic girl popped into existence at shoulder height, a bit off to the side of my field of vision. She was looking more or less like Cortana this week.

"Yeah boss?" she replied.

"There any maps around? Looking for Stan's."

"Hang on a sec... yeah, second row, couple back."

"Domo." Best PDA ever, really. Nevermind that I was trying for something completely different at the time, it all worked out fine. Mostly. I sipped the bottle of Guinness as I walked that way. Really, I suppose I didn't actually have to ask how to find Stan.

"Welcome, welcome to Stan's Kwalitee Danegoods!" he shouted from his stall. "The finest new and used goods from..." Dee had hid at the first sign I was getting close. Smart girl

"Just, please, stop talking," I muttered, wincing. Stan was a fixture, and had been picked because, among other things, he was the most likely to be able to hang onto the merchandise. But his voice gave me a headache... and that suit...

"What can I do for you, sir? There's a wide selection of current fashions, but today I'm selling them below cost to pass on the savings!"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, with a bit of an edge. He looked me up and down, taking in the Hawaiian shirt, the camoflage fatigue pants, the combat boots and the pair of swords crossed at my left hip.

"Nothing at all, sir," he answered smoothly. "Perhaps you'd be interested in..."

"No, stop... I'm KJ, I arranged shipment of a Wii, it's prepaid, could you get it so I can be on my way?" I interrupted, rattling off the statement all at once before he could start talking.

"Right away sir," he said, disappearing behind the booth. "And if you'd be interested in anything else, feel free to browse and... here we go!" He produced the boxed Wii, which I hurriedly crammed into my duffle bag. Before he could start talking again, I had fled the scene.

"Like hell I'm going to buy clothes from someone in lime green pants, a blue shirt, red tie, sombrero, and a purple and green checkerboard jacket," I muttered to myself, as I put my head down and proceeded away from the scene. Which is why I didn't notice when I ran into another congoer.

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry," I said as I helped him up, then paused and noted my shirt was soaked, my voice was higher and... oh yeah, I had breasts now. Great. "Uh... do you know where the nearest restroom is?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and mentally cursing the effects of cumulative handwavium exposure. He gestured to a corner of the room and I hurried off.

Really, I don't know why that happened. Okay, so I end up using handwavium a lot to make machine tools to make other things, and breaking them down afterwards sends some of the stuff in dust form around the section of the Ptichka's cargo bay that I sectioned off for the shop. But a pseudo-Jusenkyo curse? Personally, I vaguely blamed Dee, though I didn't hold it against her or bring it up. What's done is, and hell it vastly increased the number of characters I could cosplay as.

"Hey," she spoke up, appearing in the side of my vision again. "Ptichka sent out a message saying Mal wants to see us back at the ship."

"Just as well, only dry shirt I've got in here is too tight on me in girlform," I replied as I pulled on the Zim t-shirt in question and headed back.

  
In this crowd, I suppose an irate 6' tall redhead with daisho at her waist wouldn't draw much attention, even if they did know that I'd gone towards the market area with brown hair and a different gender. The other inhabitants of Ptichka were even more used to this sort of thing happening every so often. Well, Elena seemed about to ask some question or other, but paused and reconsidered as she saw the irritated look on my face.

"Tell Mal I'll be right back," I grumbled as I stormed into the section of Ptichka that I'd more or less claimed for my own. The workshop was one of the things I'd talked Mal into as a necessity, and I was glad of it. I calmed down as I watched some finishing operations going on one of the automated machining centers. Not that I disliked the handwavium, but I was trained as an engineer, and highly advanced technology that I could understand was reassuring. Mundane technology, perhaps, but only in the sense that it was made to human blueprints. I'd fairly quickly realized that despite everything handwavium could do, there would always be a place for stuff that worked in comprehensible ways, without random... features. Conservative reaction, perhaps, but I made a decent income making bits for other people who realized how little we actually knew about the stuff and were a bit iffy on trusting their lives to it completely.

Okay, to be honest, I was cheating a bit. There wasn't room for a full assortment of machine tools, so I had to break them down and reassemble them into other things using handwavium. Fortunately, the quirks from this mostly manifested in the form of very strange units; the milling machine was taking a cut out of a piece of alloy that it measured in tiny little fractions of a light year, and none of the placards on it were in any langauge I recognized. Part of the reason I made Dee though.

I sighed and stretched, rummaging through a drawer and extracting a dry Hawaiian shirt and a bra. Truth to tell, the quasi-curse didn't bother me that much, except for two things. Of course, it seemed to follow Murphy's law; when I was in a hurry and didn't have the proper stuff to change into, I'd be more likely to walk into someone or slip into a puddle, or run out into a rainstorm, or whatever. That wouldn't have been much of an issue if it didn't hurt so much to change more than once a day.

"Oh well, whatever," I muttered to myself as I tied my hair back and adjusted the swords. "Sorry about the delay," I said as I wandered back into the common area.

"These things happen," Mal casually replied, and I couldn't help but break into a grin at the fact that we lived in a universe where that was true.


	18. Chapter 18

The youngster who was second into the room did a double take when he saw me sat in the corner, a paperback novel open in my hand. (I later found out that this was an oft-assumed pose taken by one of the other SOS-dan, but I didn't know this at the time).

The young woman in the lead didn't even slow down, simply stalking down the room. "What are your qualifications!?" she asked as she did this. "Are you an alien? A time traveller? An esper?"

I closed my book, using a playing card (from the only Battletech TCG, rather than a poker deck actually) as a bookmark. "Aren't you being rather narrow minded? What if I was an alien esper travelling through time?"

"Are you?"

"Merely, a stranger in a strange land, travelling time in much the same way as yourselves, I believe," I demurred, putting the book away. Another young man and two young women had also entered the room while these pleasantries were exchanged. "Which is to say, forwards and at a rate that varies only through perception."

Then I interlaced my fingers, causing a distinct cracking of the knuckles, half-turned on the chair, rested my elbows on the table and my chin on my thumbs, looking at them over my hands. "You can call me Mr. Morden. And you, of course, are Suzumiya Haruhi, the famous leader of the equally famous SOS-dan."

"Tell me, Suzumiya-san..." Behind my hands, I smirked at them. "What do you want?"

Suzumiya slapped her hands onto the table in front of me. "I want the espers manipulating the world from behind a veil of mystery. I want the shapechanging monsters who appear in a hundred faces in a thousand days and the kitsune whose tails cause hurricanes when she waves them. I want a coyote from America and the parrots of the Caribees. I want a legion of the daring and bold to rise up and cast down the evils of the world in the name of GREAT JUSTICE."

She put her face right in front of me, as if daring me to interrupt. Not that I'd have dreamed of doing so, of course. "I want alien wanderers who play with planets the way you do with your food and then vanishing to leave great cities for us to unearth. I want the old man with whiskers down to his knees who begged on a street corner to show me the hidden alleys that lead from Mars to Mercury in the blink of an eye. I want a utopia in the skies where robots are building a castle for people who haven't even been thought of, a dream of a library where all the books never written are recorded. I want all the mutants and changelings to step forwards to be pirates and ninja and giant robot pilots."

"I want weirdness; strange happenings; mysteries hidden in a thousand shapes; aliens who live in outer space and inside the Sun, the ones right amongst you and the ones who don't know about us, the ones from the future and the past and know secrets that the rest of the universe won't and can't find."

"How soon will you have that arranged that for me, Mr. Morden?"

One of the men in the group cleared his throat. "Um, we were trying to form an interFen fleet to deal with the pirates in the asteroid belt?"

"I said that already," she snapped. "Well, how long will it take?" she demanded of me.

I stood, the chair scraping back along the floor as I did so, and leant forwards until I was able to whisper almost directly into her ear: "My dear, it's no fault of mine if you haven't found them yet."

And then I went towards the door.

"Morden-san," asked the young man who had spoken, as I left the small meeting room with answers to some of my questions, questions for some of my answers and several more of both that as yet were unmatched. "How did you know where to find us?"

I glanced at him and then spread my hands. "I'm the man," I said, in my best David Carradine imitation.

Actually it had been the result of a few quiet enquiries to acquaintances among the permanent population of Phobos, a little eavesdropping and a more or less systematic process of opening doors in this particular sector that had led to my finding the sysadmin for the Phobos internet server, who had given me the directions. But I wasn't going to tell him that. For one thing, it's good business to protect your sources. For another, I have a reputation to maintain.


	19. Another Fine Mess

KJ smiled sheepishly at Ben as she took a sip from her Guinness. "I'm KJ,from the racing committee first off," she said extending a hand. "Don't know that we've met face to face before. Normally I'm male, but handwavium..."

A look of comprehension dawned on Ben's face. "Ah. That stuff will do as it pleases."

I let out a low whistle, "Sexchange biomod? Ouch."

"Quasi-Jusenkyo really," she replied. Benjamin snorted at that. While not a Ranma fan, he was very much familiar with the consequences of a Jusenkyo curse. "Irritating, but what're you going to do? And you are?"

I held my hand out, and gave one of my business cards with my other hand, "Laurent Veilleux, Captain of the Schrottplatz."

KJ took the card, examined it for a moment and put it in the pocket of her Hawaiian shirt. "Ah, okay, I've heard of you... I'm chief engineer on the Ptichka, in addition to hobbies..."

I winced at the heard of you part, no doubt my drones figured in whatever reputation I had.

"At any rate," KJ continued, "no worries about womanly abuse coming your ways... I was trying to track down other racers and put faces to ships and names, but... you two hear about what's behind this whole thing yet?"

"Not yet," said Ben. "But I figure that we'll hear about it soon. Though I couldn't imagine what this Con is for from the announcement. Somebody needs to shoot their computer."

I considered for an instant, and decided to be honest, "I have." KJ nodded, not surprised.

"You _have_" said Ben, turning to Laurent. "Please, do tell."

KJ shrugged. "I don't think there was any prohibition on spreading knowledge; I heard second-hand."

"Well, it was only a teaser really, but a member of the SOS-dan came to me to ask for my support tomorrow. You've heard of the raider attacks right?"

"The hell I have. Sent a couple of the damn sunnuvabitches to their maker about a month ago. They haven't messed with me since." I nodded.

"I never met them myself, but my ship is far from theft material so I'm not surprised. Anyway, somehow, the SOS bunch have, somehow, come by critical information regarding them that paints a much... grimmer picture than what anyone else suspects and they want to organize some sort of task force to counter them."

KJ spoke up. "Cards on the table, the Star's probably going to be throwing in whether it passes as a group activity or not."

"She's armed?" asked Ben, taken a little by surprise.

"I don't think I'm supposed to answer that," KJ replied with a grin. "But there's advantages to trying to do mushytech."

Ben shook his head in wonder and admiration. "That there certainly is."

I snapped up, "Damnit, that reminds me again." I chugged down the rest of my shot glass before deciding to clarify, "I already said yes, but my ship has no weapons, and the hulls the only defensive system."

Ben shrugged. "Well, don't look at me. Gina's got her toys from the professor."

"I don't know that anyone knows what the... opposition is using," KJ pointed out. "Hell, it might devolve into boarding actions."

"I dunno. Before you can even board a ship, especially a Boskonian, you gotta pull its teeth first."

I looked from one to the other and thought, "Boarding actions, I can live with that." but then, I heard a word that I didn't know, "Boskonian?"

"Old game reference that is used to refer to these ass wipes," Ben answered.

"Maybe there'll be more intel... dunno." KJ swirled her Guinness around in its glass. "Really irritating though... some assholes wanting to go and screw things up for the rest. And I so wanted to try the WRX in the buggy-races..." the last sentence being muttered more than anything.

"I'll be there next time," said Ben with a big grin by way of challenge.

I shrugged, "Never heard that word, guess I'll have to google it later." I turned to the other, "And I was looking forward to looking at some races from orbit, I'm thinking it'd really be something, so you'd better send me a quick e-mail whenever you do it."

KJ grinned. "Well, we're both in the space races, but someone hatched the idea of buggy races on surfaces, so... if someone hosts it, the racers will come." Ben nodded agreement.

"I'll be sure to let you guys know about anything I'm involved in, race wise. As for the buggies, Gina's already all over that like flies on stink. She's been trading e-mails with the Professor about mods to her chassis to support a hot-swap suspension system."

"Kinda cheating if she's capable of flying around though..." KJ mentioned and then shrugged. "I'll have to see how well the hardtech-spec WRX does in testing I suppose..."

I had no mirrors to check... but I'm pretty sure my eyes were glazed over by that point. I'm just not a racer I guess.

"Oh no, heaven forbid that I cheat. That's what the hot-swap is for," Ben continued explaining. "Rapid swap out of her existing hover system and street wheels for an all-terrain rig."

"Hrm, workable," KJ responded after thinking about it for a few seconds. "Maybe not even that hard. How much of the subframes did you end up modifying for the conversion... er... uh oh, looks like we're losing Laurent."

Ben chuckled at that. "Indeed. Back on topic. Raiders. Boskonians. And what this SOS-dan intends to do about them."

I snapped back to attention at that, "I'm not sure what they intend to do, but I'm guessing a HUGE hunting party with whatever whacko at the head of the SOS in charge. Speaking of whacko, the Professor met her and, according to him, she's even MORE" I mimicked quotes, " 'Enthusiastic' than him." I shuddered at that.

KJ blinked at that. "... that may be interesting to see." Ben's reaction was more severe.

"WHAT!?" cried out Ben with an odd, incredulous grin on his face. "Whoa-ho-ho-ho-ho-hooaaa! This I have got to see in person." He paused. "But really... These raiders are scum-dogs supreme. If they want some fighter-support, then I'm all for it and I don't think Gina will refuse either. She lives for that kind of high."

"Fighter-scale armament may take some doing," KJ responded. "Occurs to me that scouts would be useful though; gauging capabilities and whatnot."

"Well," I said, "if you want recon, I'm pretty sure I could stea, er... acquire a few mopeds dirt-side, put drones in them and tell them to go take a look at the enemy fleet I guess."

"Mopeds are good too," agreed KJ. "Whatever of the space racers are volunteering probably have more capable things handy, but if we add up to enough for all the recon that needs doing. After that... hrm... heh heh. Reminds me. Dee?" A 4 inch tall holographic girl appeared about a foot from KJ's face. "Yeah, bosslady?" KJ grimaced at that. "Just remind me to pick up enough guacamole for the Priss project."

"Priss project?" asked Ben, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well... I was tinkering with powered exoskeleton designs on CAD and whatnot even before the handwavium broke out. After, things got easier, what with power supplies and wavium actuators and such so I thought I might cosplay as a Knight Sabre at a future con."

Ben gaped. "..... KJ, that so rocks. You bring the Hard Suit, I'll bring the Alter Ability."

I piped up at that, "And I'll bring the quasi-genuine copy know-how if you want," I commented wryly.

Benjamin grinned slyly. "Sounds like we could possibly make a dangerous trio."

KJ blushed a bit, took a sip from her Guinness. "Don't get me wrong... I'm not as militant as some, but it's been in the back of my head since day one that things might go wrong... and I spend a lot of time thinking."

Ben nodded. "Same here, but I've already taken precautions. I'm glad to have the professor for a friend, otherwise, I don't know if I would have ever gotten Gina armed up the way I wanted to in time to take care of the raiders I nuked."

I groaned a bit, "Damnit, am I the only one that was going around hoping that we could be peaceful out in fenspace with only the occasional Trekies-Warsies conflicts?

"No, you're far from the only one hoping," KJ responded with emphasis on the last word. "Maybe it'll turn out that way eventually but if nothing else, the 'danes might figure out how to be problematic at some point."

"Yeah, there's always some dumb-ass trying to screw up a good thing for everyone else just because they're scared or they're greedy. That's why we need to be vigilant," Ben agreed.

KJ shrugged and smiled. "... that and I've never been a Trekkie."

I grumbled and did my best Mc'Coy voice, "Damnit Jim, I'm a mechanic, not a warrior."

"Even the mechanics have a place, Bones," Ben responded, and KJ snickered somewhat.

That last comment made me snort, but after a moment, I suddenly had an idea. "Wait a second, I know. Instead of recon vehicles, I could make the mopeds into highly mobile repair drones to keep the fleet in shape. Hell, I can even make them copies of one fandom or another's material and sell them afterwards."

Ben grasped the idea immediately. "Sweet! Combat tenders!" KJ nodded.

"That's an interesting one. Fleets though... kinda weird. I wonder how large the problem actually is, y'know? It's definitely a change in the order of things."

"Maybe that's why the SOS-dan is calling as many Fen together as possible," Ben proposed.

"Think about it though... it's sort of going to be moving towards having enforced... well, laws, at least in the broadest sense."

I hmm'ed, "And it also suddenly makes fendom seem less vulnerable and more united."

Ben grinned. "Yeah. That sounds about right to me. Just like back home in the good old days."

"Have to kinda wonder what Mal's take on the long-term political crap's going to be," KJ pondered out loud. "I'm just a damned tinkerer after all."

"Well, I'm a tinkerer too," Ben commented, "But I think I got too much of the old blood alive in me. I'm looking forward to opening up a nice can of vigilante whoop-ass mayhem on these guys."

"You're saying this to a lady-shaped gentleman with combat boots and daisho."

I snorted and said, tongue in cheek, "Who better to say that to?"

Ben chuckled and held his hands up in a defensive 'Hey-hey, not me' gesture.

KJ chuckled at me. "Who better to say it to indeed," she replied, then muttered and repeated it in a raised voice to go over the increasingly loud tones coming from a different section of the bar. "Mou, what the hell are they arguing about?"

Ben peeked around KJ. It was kind of comical, given the way Ben's ponytail-with-a-mind-of-its-own was whipping around in its non-existent breeze. "Dunno," said Ben. "Sounds like a heated debate over subs versus dubs."

As soon as I heard the words 'subs versus dubs', I couldn't help but mentally scream, 'Not again!'

"Ah. Of course. How silly of me. What else would they be arguing about in a Senshi-themed bar?" Even over the increasing racket, the dry irritation in KJ's voice came through clearly. "Now if only... hey!" she said as she suddenly grabbed her pint glass and leaned to the side to avoid a man reeling into the bar.

Ben, despite his smallish size gracefully caught the man before he could have a harsh encounter with the bar. "Easy there man. Don't wanna get yourself hurt, now." The ungrateful drunk slurred something about Ben being a damned subber and aimed a sloppy blow at him. Ben took the punch, twisting with it to lighten the blow. He then glares at the drunk and nonchalantly reaches into an inside pocket, removes a credit chit, and says, "I apologize in advance, bar keep. "This should help cover the expenses."

Meanwhile I stood up and accidentally stumbled into another drunk wandering by. Before I could do anything, he slurred something about 'stupid dubbers' and swung at me. I let the punch harmlessly hit my chest, before replying with an haymaker that sent him straight to the sandman's kingdom.

Ben stood up, cast his arm out to the side, and then his barstool dissolved. Suddenly, his right arm began to glow and actually _split_ between his knuckles. Something like glowing cable materials from the dematerialised barstool wrapped itself around his arm, binding it back together as organic-looking armor began to materialize along the whole length of his arm, including his shoulder. Behind his shoulder were three wicked looking spikes curving off to the side. "Okay, you jerk. Let's dance."

I turned around and arched an eyebrow at Ben's new attire, "Were you thinking of Guyver when you got THAT biomod?"

Ben laid the first drunk low with a spectacular power-punch to the face and replied, "It's a special custom job. Didn't I mention that the Professor is a friend of mine?"

I frowned, "So there's really weapon's grade 'Wavium?"

Ben now proceeded to knock drunkards down. None of them decided that they wanted to get back up from their forced nap time. "Nope! Just weapon's grade biomods! WHOOO-HOOO!"

KJ grimaced and finished her Guinness in a long pull, casually setting the glass back on the bar. "Right, I see we're in this stage of... WHAT THE HELL!" KJ interrupted herself as another drunk took the opportunity to glomp her. She turned bright red at the rather short drunk burying his face in her chest, her mouth open in what would almost be a scream of surprise if noise were coming out. The reaction finally came a bare handful of seconds later when her brain caught up and she drove the hilt of her katana into the drunk's stomach. "Ugh... y'know," she commented conversationally as she planted the toe of her boot into the drunk's stomach again to drive the point of her displeasure home. "I didn't try for this biomod. I don't mind it most of the time but..." She paused to drive an elbow into another face. "Sometimes..."

I leant to the side to look at our 'female' companion over Ben's shoulder. Considering the way she was pummelling the drunk, I guessed I was better off not knowing, and instead pulled out a pipe wrench out of my tool-belt and held it at the ready.

KJ added another kick for good measure and paused to properly rearrange the sheathed katana in her belt and growled. "I swear, it's just not possible to understand how disconcerting getting groped is without being female," she muttered as she head butted another fan.

I did not wait long as a James Kirk wannabe fen swaggered confidently to me. His wink to one of the nearby waitresses made me think that he was hopping to impress her or some such. I took advantage of the fact that he was looking elsewhere to punch him with the hand holding the wrench, seeing no need to use it on the over-confident moron.

Suddenly, a rather large and hulking specimen of Fen stalked up behind Benjamin and sucker punched him in the kidneys, causing Ben to snarl in pain and rage as he recoils from the blow and finds that it was a Trekky modded into a freakin' Klingon.

"Honorless bastard!" snarled Ben incisively. "Lemme show you how it's DONE!" A few Fen knew what was coming and quickly began to get the hell out of the way...

"SHOCKING FIRST BULLET!!!" screamed Ben as one of the spikes protruding from his shoulder disintegrated and was converted into kinetic energy that fuelled his mad charging power-punch that drove the Klingon through tables, chairs, unsuspecting Fen, and the outside wall of the Bar.

KJ paused at the scream and the colossal impact. "Oh. That. Err... Ben?"

I turned my head to look at the havoc, "Isn't that... y'know... a bit much?"

"No no, not that... them." She gestured to the horde of fangirls on the outside of the bar, now visible through the large hole in the wall.

I followed her finger with my eyes, and saw the female horde. For some reason, I felt the need to make my best imitation of Neo, "Whoa."

Ben suddenly looked up and saw that he was surrounded by startled Magical Pretty Girls of all sorts. Suddenly, they all cheered wildly, "OH RUHODESU SAMA!!!! HE'S SO STRONG!" Ben gulped audibly and uttered, "oohhh shit..."

KJ blinked as the horde of Magical Pretty Girls and other assorted ravening fangirls paused their charge and swivelled their gazes away from Ben and towards a tall, buxom redhead. Namely herself. "Oh ass," she sighed, knowing that because there's conventions to be followed, she was going to get mobbed by people seeing her as a rival for Ben's affections. Whether it was a side-effect of the handwavium, or just ingrained programming wasn't something she had time to ponder at the moment.

Ben suddenly made a crazy, wobbly armed back dash back into the bar, looking for cover as all the senshi began to pile into the bar, sensibilities be damned now. "RUN!" cried Ben.

I didn't need to be told twice and I thought of jumping behind the bar, before the fact that if I did, I'd probably be stuck with the tab made me reconsider. Instead, I hunched my shoulders down, held my wrench in a two handed grip, and rushed for the nearest exit, ready to plow through anyone trying to stop me.

"You're buying the beers next time!" KJ shouted as she drew both her katana and wakizashi and ran in a different direction, a large portion of the horde in hot pursuit.


	20. Hilarity at the Tispy Senshi

It's not entirely uncommon for Fens to come and go from a Con. After all, not everyone turns up for the whole thing, and there's usually a fairly constant flow of Fen back to their vehicles for a quick nap (since unlike a Con back on Earth, there's usually no particular reason to accomodate a given time zone and events happen around the clock).

Going all the way out to a vehicle parked well away from Phobos and then coming back a few hours would have probably made a few people suspicious that I was Up To Something, were it not that a significant fraction of Fendom suspect me of that anyway. The truth is that I needed to feed the Saint Bernard.

No, I'm not kidding. She apparently draws energy from my sleeping aboard. REM sleep specifically. I don't recall any dreams and I rather suspect I don't want to.

As usual, I used the excuse of going back to get into costume. I used to always attend as Gendo Ikari, since I already had the beard, but Kandor requires me to admit that it was creepy and that I'll never do it again. (No, really. Treaty of Kandor-con, last year. One of the clauses they snuck in around the issues of Moonbase Alpha's hazardous wastes storage bars me from using the costume.)

So this time, when I climbed out of the Jaime Retief, I was wearing a the costume of a Konohagakure no Sato jonin-sensei.

* * *

I waved a quick goodbye to the Professor and his assistants before turning back to Koizumi. For some reason, his smile made me think he found me amusing, in a "I know more than you" kind of way. "Hello Koizumi. I'm Laurent Veilleux and this is Taesha..." "Just Taesha."

I glanced at Taesha, puzzled at the interruption, before shrugging and looking straight at Koizumi, obviously waiting for him to tell me why he came to me. His smile widened annoyingly and gestured for us to follow him as he walked towards a more secluded part of the shop.

We followed him and, after a quick glance around, Koizumi began, "Captains, I was sent to request your assistance."

I arched an eyebrow, traded a glance with Taesha and, seeing that she was as clueless as me, replied, "I can't see what you would need the both of us for, then. Taesha and I have very little in common."

"We - that is, the SOS-dan - would like you and your crew to support Miss Suzumiya's initiative tomorrow. More to the point, we would like you to support the initiative even if it fails to win the vote."

My bewilderment with the oddly smiling man grew even more, "Why?"

"You both have some notoriety amongst the Fen. You, captain Taesha, are fairly well known for the way you left earth and you, captain Veilleux, have one of the most recognised crews."

I groaned. I should really have known that most of my reputation was due to the Drones. Koizumi just kept talking, "Additionally, you and your crews have skills that may be necessary."

Taesha snorted, "You still haven't given any good information y'know? Like Lau said, we don't have much in common so I can't see what you could need the both of us for."

Koizumi smiled again (I really hate that smile) and explained, in an annoyingly roundabout way, that the SOS-dan had acquired significant information regarding the raiders and were planning on organizing a taskforce to deal with them permanently.

I just looked at him like he had just grown a new head. I mean, I could understand that he'd seek out Taesha, she and her crew were pretty good bounty hunters, but, "I'm just a fucking kludger, not a fighter!"

Taesha snorted, "Remember the Drunken Harlock?"

"One bar brawl does not make me a fighter." I waved my hands around for emphasis.

"The Dancing Shinobi."

"Oh all right, two brawls then."

She just coughed. I grumbled, "Oh alright, more than that, but I was barely able to walk away from most of them."

She laughed back, "You're usually the only one that can walk away from them."

"Er... I only did so well because I cheated. I even use my tools as weapons."

"Lau, I saw you beat a Zanbatou wielding psycho with a sledge hammer."

I raised my finger, and froze, unable to find a counter argument that would not be a lie.

"See? You're way stronger than you look."

I looked down at myself, and then back up at Taesha, "That's just because I work almost constantly with Handwavium. And anyway, my ship couldn't fight raiders."

Taesha guffawed, "Ah! You have the Drone catapult and there's no ship that can survive a group of Drones on board for long. Well, except yours anyway."

Oh come on, none of my Drones are crazy or suicidal enough to launch themselves at an hostile ship.

Taesha looked at me oddly, and pointed towards the nearby storefront window. I turned my head to look, and was presented with the odd sight of a Drone balancing several meters off the ground from a rope attached to its neck. It was also in the process of waving a sign that read, Please kill me.

I sat there looking at the Drone for a full minute before turning back to Taesha, Why do you want me to do this so much anyway? Heck, why do YOU want to do it for free?

Taeshas face lost all traces of humour, and I suddenly knew that something was wrong. Taesha NEVER stopped looking like she was having fun unless the situation was serious. She sighed, Thats why I was looking for you. Gabes nowhere to be found, and I havent been able to contact him for months.

Oh, shit. Gabe was a very successful asteroid ferrying specialist, and a good friend of Taesha and I. Knowing him, he wouldnt miss the convention for all the money in the galaxy and would, in fact, have arrived a long time before I ever did, Damn, now I have to look for a new supplier.

I dont think Taesha appreciated my attempt at dark humour because next thing I knew, she had grabbed my head and,

  * WHAM*



Introduced it to the table. She had begun lifting my head and I was getting ready for the second impact when Koizumi interrupted Taesha, Please, he clearly meant to alleviate the atmosphere.

Taesha reluctantly let go of my head, and we both slightly reddened, suddenly reminded that there had been a spectator for our antics. Taesha cleared her throat and looked straight at Koizumi, studiously ignoring me, Count me in.

She then stood up and marched away. I looked at her for a moment, regretting my words a bit. That regret is probably what caused me to also express my support for the SOS-dan. Koizumi smiled, thanked me, and left.

I spent a moment alone, looking at my empty cup, before I left as well. For a few minutes, I wandered around aimlessly, before I spotted a bar, The Tipsy Senshi huh?

I felt a strong need for a drink at that moment, so I walked in.

* * *

It wasn't that I didn't like attention. Really. But when about fifty Fen-femmes, mostly of the magical pretty girl persuasion, all come out to tackle and do only Goddess knows what to you... Well, usually fight-or-flight instincts kick in pretty hard. Mom raised me to be a gentleman, so hitting any of them unless they gave me reason to was out of the question, and so I ran.

There are places where most self-respecting MPG's usually never go. A bar is one of these places. To be sure, there are a few exceptions to the rule, but this would keep the vast majority of ravenous fan girls off of me until I could sneak out.

One inparticcular caught my eye, called The Tipsy Senshi. I knew that diving into there was just asking for trouble, but it was the only bar in sight, so I decided to take my chances.

It was actually nicer than I thought. Waitresses went about clad in Sailor Senshi fuku's, the Barkeep put on a pretty good Tuxedo Kamen, and the decore, while certainly pink, was not as garish as one might at first think.

With a weary sigh, I sat down next to a fellow who's face had recently had a close encounter with a table (ouch!) and placed an order for a hard lemonade.

* * *

Once I'd digested the morsel of information that Mr Scott (Mr William Scott, fer cryin' out loud) of the DEA had given me, and caught a bit of sleep, I decided not to enjoy what time was left before the moving and shaking began.

Oddly enough, I didn't have too many irons in the fire at the moment. The Venus Terraforming Project was humming along merrily (the new matter notwithstanding), I'd been pretty hands off with regard to Davis-Monthan for the last six months, there were no significant frictions over Moonbase Alpha's nuclear waste storage business (well, no more than usual), and I'd got out of the asteroid mining business a back before Kandor-Con. The Yamato/Konig deal might be interesting, but it was a one-shot deal (well, maybe three-shot deal if they raised all three ships), so it was looking like being rather quiet for the immediate future. Maybe I should look at that hydrogen farming project that I'd heard about...

I resolutely put that aside and began to work my way through the crowds of people and other people that had congregated for the Con. I wasn't actually heading for anyone on the floor though, so once I'd reached a point suitably congrugent to my destination I stopped and pulled a little gadget out of my utility vest, gesturing for those around me to give me a little room.

The gizmo in question was a grappling cable of the kind used for construction work inside of mined-out asteroids. They're very useful in zero gravity, but they have their uses even when there is a gravity field, as I proved when I planted the grapple securely in the roof and had the stout little motor haul me up quickly, using the light swing to move me over to the stand set up by the Village of Hidden Asteroid.

Catching hold of the end of the stand, I released the grapple and waved to the many other ninja congregating here, all by their own means. "Yo," I said waving with my one free hand. "Sorry I'm late. Got lost on the road of life."

I must be losing my touch, I only had to dodge two casually thrown shuriken.

* * *

Mal's explanation of what he'd been told provided a lot of clue as to what the whole thing was about, but a lot more questions as well. I knew I was game; damned if I was happy with the idea of anyone preying on other Fen in a large scale fashion, no matter what faction. Details remained to be determined, obviously, and a lot of details there were. Still, I suppose they're be likely to explain tomorrow. That should prove interesting.

Until then, it was a con, and something this wide-scale there'd be bound to be more of the people I'd been exchanging emails with. With that, I wandered back out into the fray.

"Hey Dee, could you ping the racer's mailing list, see who's here? I could have sworn I saw a Jetta on the way in..."

"Sure thing, bosslady." I muttered at that, but wandered towards the section of the town that had bars. And paused in front of one with a medium-sized horde of magical girls and other femmes milling around it. Clearly they had some reason for being there but were unwilling to go into anyplace as disreputable as a bar. Or maybe they were underage. I'd take what I could get.

"Scratch that, Dee. Ben was the one with the... well..." I gestured at the crowd.

"Yep."

"Bingo, then," I grinned as I plowed through the crowd. The Tipsy Senshi was far from the normal sort of place I'd frequent; pink decor not really being to my taste, but the waitresses were pretty. Claiming a barstool, and arranging the swords at my side so that passers-by wouldn't trip over them, I ordered a Guinness and considered the bishounen and the gentleman with the facial damage.

"Let me guess," I said to the first. "You're Ben, right? No, wait, I'm not normally female." That sounded so much less terrible in my head.

* * *

I glared at the three quarter empty bottle of scotch, and my reflection glared back. I was finally starting to be pleasantly drunk and I was already running out of alcohol.

Ok, so my habit of only sipping alcohol the second its any good might have something to do with it, but still, I wanted to be so drunk that I couldnt remember that I had volunteered to what amounted to pirate hunting even though I always made a point to avoid fights as much as possible when Im sober anyway.

Someone sat beside me, and I straightened up to look at the new arrival. I arched an eyebrow when I noticed that he was breathing hard, as if he had been running. I poured myself another shot, took a sip, and nodded to him, So, what brings you away from the convention.

"About a hundred rabid, screaming fangirls," he replied after he took a healthy pull off his hard lemonade.

I brushed the bruise on my face, Women.

I thought about it a bit more, before amending, Females.

To punctuate the statement, I took another sip.

"You too?" he asks as he takes another pull on his beverage.

I shrugged, Not that many, but crazier. Violent women are worse than fangirls no matter how you look at it.

"Heh," he replied. "I think I could handle one or two violent girls compared to the some hundred sitting outside this establishment, waiting for me to come out. By the way, the name's Benjamin Rhodes, skipper of the Bullet Boy Express."

Laurent Veilleux, Captain of the Schrottplatz. And I said women, not girls. They get worse with age.

I pointed to my face, You know many girls that could do that?

Ben chuckled and grinned slyly. "A few. Depends on how much handwavium said girl has ingested, along with physical build and temperament."

Mmm I spent a minute in thought, Im not sure how much handwavium Taesha ate, but shes had military training at some point and shes the tallest person Ive ever met so Id say shes way up there in the Dont mess with her scale.

"Military chick, huh? Lucky. The only woman in my life right now is my ship, and if Gina thinks I deserve it, she'll be more than happy to make me eat the steering wheel."

I started with chuckling, and slowly escalated to full blown out laughter. After a while, I calmed down, took a sip, and replied, Woman in my life, Taesha, yeah right. Shes a worse womanizer than James Bond even though shes had a steady girlfriend for the last two years.

* * *

I suddenly jerked around at the female voice with an absolutely panicked look in my eyes as I tried to size up what I was up against. After a few comical looking glances side to side, I found that, aside from the wait staff (Which the Tuxedo Kamen Barkeep had been keeping clear with meaningful glares), there was only one present; a Hawaiian T-shirt bedecked tall buxomly type equipped with a daisho. I then sighed heavily with relief.

"Yeah, I'm Ben, and what do you mean that you're not normally female?"


	21. Chapter 21

I had barely entered the promenade again, wincing at the volume that was coming from the far end of the chamber. When I had a moment, I might have to intervene down there.

"Asuma-kun?"

But not now. I half-turned and spotted the rather distinctive pink-dyed hair of an acquaintance of mine. She wore her allegiance on her forehead - the hitai-ate is pretty distinctive, since her home had sensibly made up their own symbol for it. "Billboard-brow!"

Wow, look at the pretty stars... oh wait, that's the ceiling so that means I'm... on the floor.

"Do you think Lacus-sensei killed him?" asked a young voice in what might have been a whisper if the general noise level had allowed.

"His head's harder than that," said Lacus Rivers. Her name isn't really Lacus, I guess, but I'm not exactly in a position to criticize. I levered myself up and saw that she was in the company of three much younger Fens - teenagers - all wearing ninja gear as envisaged by Kishimoto.

"ow. Did you have to hit me?"

"Yes."

"So hard?"

"Get up, you big girl's blouse," she ordered, motivating me with the sole of her sandal against my (fortunately armoured) ribcage.

"I hear and obey, O Great One," I promised, kipping up so that she could introduce her 'genin team'. There were, of course, three of them: Toby and Julie were both redhead although she was carroty while his was almost blood-red, which I took to be chemical in origins. The third, and youngest of them was Mickey, who had apparently raided a similar hairdresser to Toby since his hair was actually blue. From the looks of them, they were barely old enough to be out here on duty, since unofficial policy in Hidden Asteroid is that if you aren't sixteen the most dangerous job you'll get is making deliveries for one of the Ninja Burger franchises.

"Lacus," I said when I got a moment in between the introductions. "I want... and very possibly need to know what's going on the Belt. I'm not asking you to break any confidences... but if there's anything at all you can tell me..."

Lacus might occasionally be just a little flighty, but she's also a jonin of Hidden Asteroid and she knew better than to mess around when I said that I needed the information. We went back a couple of years, since I'd sold up my share of the asteroid mining gig and moved on to fresher pastures. That had meant my withdrawal from the In Nomine campaign that a mutual friend was running, and she knew what it meant when I used that word with emphasis.

"I am not permitted to discuss that at this time," she said after a moment's thought. "I can relay your interest to Karasukage-sama, however. I'm sure he will be interested in your interest."

I nodded. "Thank you. So, how long have you had a team for?"

"Oh, about three months now. We were just on the way back from the L-4 point when the Convention was called, so I thought they deserved to have a little time off and attend."

"I'd heard that there were some difficulties out there," I said. "Fens or 'Danes? Or is that classified as well?" I was careful not to make that sound like a jab. Sometimes talking to ninja is tricky because there are topics that shinobi discuss only with shinobi and kunoichi talk only to other kunoichi when it comes to certain other topics. And if a classified mission's involved then you may as well start tap-dancing through a minefield.

"I'm afraid so," Lacus admitted. "But I understand that you've been working in the Inner System lately?"

"Doing some negotiating between the Senshi and the Europeans," I said mildly. "There's a big market there and it's not really been tapped to it's full extent yet. I may wind up upsetting Moscow again though."


	22. Mad Laughter

Strong men wept. Women screamed. Ninja went for cover and looked for weapons. Several animate but not biological objects shuffled nervously away, trying not to capture the attention of the two men whose evil laughter filled to concourse...

And it had all started so innocently, with nothing more than a stated opinion...

"...sure that the Professor doesn't actually have any military-grade handwavium. After all there are still nine planets in the Solar System..."

"Eight planets," corrected Mickey.

"Eight planets?" I asked. "Are you sure?" All three of the genin nodded. "Hmm, well maybe I'm wrong then. Which one did he blow up?"

"I think that what Mickey means is that Pluto doesn't count as a planet," Lacus clarified.

"What do you mean Pluto doesn't count as a planet?" I demanded.

"There was a decision by one of the 'Dane astronomical organisations -" Mickey explained.

"Well, if you want to tell thirteen yottagrams of fast-moving ice and rock that it isn't a planet, I wouldn't suggest standing in front of it while you do so. Well I guess he doesn't have any then. QED - if he did, we'd be missing a planet," I said confidently.

What I hadn't noticed was that the object of our conversation had walked up behind me. "Wrong!" was suddenly screamed almost into my ear. If I hadn't been desensitised to loud noises by the din from the stage, I would surely have been deafened.

Suddenly feeling a pressure behind my knees I collapsed into the chair that just appeared, followed by a too small desk, trapping me in the chair as the Professor walked out in front of us. Glancing to my side in the rapidly darkening room I noticed the ninja where also trapped, while Catty was setting up some sort of kludged together device that might once have been a projector.

Putting on a square academic cap such as seen on graduations the Professor tapped the blackboard that suddenly appeared behind him. "You are tracking the wrong variable, what you should analyze is the variance of the number of planets," he lectured while tapping the blackboard where a chibi-professor was gleefully building and destroying planets.

The three genin all looked at the animated chalk drawing with wide eyes. Handwavium was old news to them, but until you see the results of working with it raw, you don't appreciate just what a genius like the Professor can do with it. Lacus, for her part, looked troubled. I scratched my chin and opened my mouth to speak. A high velocity length of chalk clipped my ear and I took the hint, raising one hand to petition for the privilege of asking a question of the Professor. In the interval of his considering this important decision, the chalked professor had gotten busy inventing something on the projection screen and Catty had to bring her pointer down on Julie's desk to redirect her attention back to the Professor.

"So I should be looking for suspiciously new planets being discovered?" I asked once I had received his permission to do so. "Does that mean that you are making progress on the development of a Genesis Device?"

There was an intake of breath from several Trekkies and other Fens who were at least familiar enough with the film's to recognise the reference. That number included Lacus and Mickey, but Toby and Julie didn't seem to recognise it. Kids these days. No respect for the classics!

The Professor was the centre of attention as we all waited for an answer to this burning question. "No, I had almost built one but then I used parts of it for my Portable-Classroom. What use is the advancement of Science when we don't pass it on to the next generation!"

There was a rush of relief, and then some nervous looks at the projector. While the Mars Terraforming Project was still years (decades) from completion, the creation of an M-Class planet in a low orbit of Mars would probably not do anything to benefit the process.

Judging by the level of redness around the Professor's eyes and the relative lack of tension in the shoulders of his lovely assistants, I judged that he had probably had at least a little sleep in the last week. So I could play this safely, or...

"But in the absence of a ready means of replacing a planet, doesn't the fact that we're not facing a delpleted number of them indicate that my previous hypothesis was correct, Professor?" Heck with safe! "Or are you adhering to the Prime Time Directive?" This was a little obscure for the rest of the audience, so I expanded my query by quoting said Directive: "Put Things Back Where You Find Them'."

"Excellent question. Well without a ready means of replacing planets I wanted to further my research on the existing planets before even thinking about destroying them. Irresponsibility like that is what gives all scientist a bad name. Really how would we study Gas Giant weather patterns without a significant sample? But fear not I shall resume work on my Genesis Device shortly! For the POWER OF SCIENCE! MWHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Professor's laughter echoed across the Promenade like a mad thing. I had to confess that I was impressed. Challenge his other credentials as you will, there was no doubt that this was the Fen who had taken the victory in three successive Evil Overlord Laughter contests with his famous Mad Scientist style.

But then there was another voice to the laugh. In the blink of an eye I had freed myself and now I stood behind him, in full view of the four from Hidden Asteroid and added my Triumphant Cackling to the mix. "FAUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"MWHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"FAUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A desk went flying as Toby made his escape from it. He hesitated for a moment, before Lacus managed a strangled order. "Don't try it! Save yourself!"

He hesitated, torn between his orders and the ethos of the Hidden Asteroid: 'Ninja who abandon their teammates are lower than scum.'

"MWHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

"FAUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

* * *

It had been a busy day so far. I'd done my best hurricane impression at several clothing vendors, picking up a new wardrobe for myself. I even had new boots and running shoes, instead of the improvised flip-flops I'd been wearing earlier. Sadly, I was still in orange; I'd arranged for them to put tail holes into my pants, but that meant they'd be delivering things to my hotel later in the day. That left me stuck with orange for now, but at least I could look forward to other colors tomorrow.

I'd also managed to replace my lab coat in my new size. It wasn't quite as elaborate as my old one, but I'd managed to get 'The Jason' airbrushed across the back (along with some blooming rose vines twining around the letters) and EACHES stenciled on the front pocket, so I was happy. I was wearing that now over the orange stuff, my tail threaded out a newly-made hole in the back. I wandered through the Con, taking in the sights. It had been a long time since I'd had so much ENERGY at a convention, and I was enjoying every minute of it. I was also highly amused by some of the looks I was getting. I'm not sure if it was just the orange clothing and the monkey tail, or if they were having trouble parsing the idea of a Saiyajin mad scientist. I tilted my head, catching the faint sounds of mad laughter off in the distance, and arched an eyebrow. OK....that sounds like something to check out. Grinning, I headed off in the direction of the laughter.

I paused at the edge of the crowd. I recognized the Professor, of course. I'd dealt with him in the past. The other guy....Morden, I think his name was? They were laughing away, and the crowd was clearly getting nervous. I noticed a couple ninja trapped at school desks - dear gods, what had the Professor been up to this time? - and one that was free. The poor kid looked distressed, so I edged over to him, and tapped him on the back. Then took a step back as he whirled around. Jeez...jumpy ninja. He blinked, seeing me, and I grinned at him. "Heya, kid. Need some help?" I glanced over at the other ninja, then back to him. "Your teammates? And what's your name?"

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah...and I'm Toby."

I gave him a smile. "Good to meet you, Toby. I'm Kevin, some folks call me the Jason. I'll go distract the laughing boys. You free your teammates while I do, OK? We can chat a bit later maybe, after you get them out."

He gave me an absolutely grateful smile, and nodded again. "Thanks!"

I waved a hand. "No problem...." I started back around the crowd, so that I could come at the Professor from a direction that would put his back to the other ninja. I had an idea for a distraction that should be ideal. Time to laugh while I can....or should I call it putting a monkeywrench into the works? I snickered, then took a couple deep breaths. OK. My vocal range was a child's treble now, so I couldn't do my normal mad laugh. But if I went falsetto, I thought I could pull off a laugh in another Mad Scientist's style. Well...botanist, at any rate. Absolutely everybody agreed she was mad, though. Stepping towards the laughing duo, I tightened my diaphragm...and let loose a pealing "OHHHHHHH-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-hoooo!" It rang out over the deeper men's laughter, an assault on the ears by anyone's definition.


	23. Run And Shoot Fangirls

"Crap crap crap crap crap!" I growled to myself as I dove out the hole in the wall, brandishing the swords at any of the raving fangirls who got too close. This was, I admitted to myself, not a very good long-term strategy. Sooner or later one of them would notice that I was trying my damnedest not to seriously hurt any of them, and then they'd just all swarm me.

"FOR RUHODESU SAMA!" came a cry to my left, and I hurriedly parried the sparkly wand thingie with my wakizashi.

"Augh, damn you all... stop chasing me!" I yelled as I disengaged as fast as I could, pausing only to do a shoulder-roll as a trio of shuriken passed by. "For god's sake, I'm not even attracted to men!" I pounded down a different corner as fast as my feet would take me. Which wasn't fast enough for this to be a viable solution.

"Crap on a crutch... Dee!" She phased into view.

"Hai, bosslady... ooh, you got yourself in trouble this time!" The little hologram floated along with me but peered curiously over my shoulder.

"No kidding; find a place for me to hide... no wait, better yet, get ahold of B!" Another few random turns, and then another shout of discovery took place while I was waiting for her to pick up. More muttered expletives.

"Yeah, KJ? What's up?"

"One of the standard girltype Ranma tropes," I blurted out before having to pause and duck another thrown weapon, which gave a couple Senshi time to get within close combat range. I was too busy avoiding attacks to elaborate, but I could hear Dee and B conversing in the background.

"What's that mean, KJ?"

"Ah, he's busy, this is Dee. I think he means the bit where a gigantic horde of fangirls pursuing a bishounen who is hiding, come across him when he is talking to an attractive female who for one reason or another has no reason to be attracted to him. Nevertheless, they assume that she's a suitor and seek to attack and kill her to prevent the situation with the bishounen from being resolved."

"Whoa... it's kinda impressive you know him well enough to figure out what he means in such detail," B commented.

"Actually, I'm summing up the last 15 minutes."

"Heh. Hey wait, did you say rabid fangirls!?" I growled as I finally managed to make a hole in the group of Senshi and find another route to run away through.

"Yes," I replied, "and I don't have any non-lethal weaponry."

"I'll be right there!" B replied and signed off.

"Dee, do you have to be such a smartass?" I muttered.

"Yep. Oooh, might want to duck again." I did so and brought the katana up against the shaft of the naginata that passed through where my torso was, severing the head but leaving the wielder with a fairly serviceable staff.

"Figures." Damned AI, of course she had to think like me.

**[Elena van Oorebeek](http://www.fenspace.net/index.php5?title=Elena_van_Oorebeek) **

"No, no no! Dammit, you can't think of it like *that*!" I waved my arms in the air and cursed. Mal had shoved me in with a bunch of stormtroopers, and they had turned out to be a pretty friendly bunch. We'd set up camp at a bar, and true to form, I was in a vigorous debate with some guy over different philosophies about 'the Force'.

"Well, why not? You've got this sort of thing repeating all through history..."

"Bullshit. Bullshit." I slapped a hand on the table, my hair stirring somewhere above. "It's like air, you can't say it's good or bad...crap!" My cellphone went off. "Sorry, luv, lemme get this."

The 'trooper grinned and raised his pint. "I'm still right."

"No the bloody hell you are NOT...dammit!" The cellphone continued to ring and I grabbed it, glaring good-naturedly at the trooper. For a moment, there was only the sounds of cursing. Ah ha. "Yeah, KJ? What's up?"

"One of the standard girltype Ranma tropes." He spoke rapidly, and then was cut off to the sound of clashing. I blinked. Ranma? He must be in his girly form...I wasn't as familiar with the series, but obviously something of the 'sure we'll laugh about this years later' type was going on.

"What's that mean, KJ?"

"Ah, he's busy, this is Dee. I think he means the bit where a gigantic horde of fangirls pursuing a bishounen who is hiding, come across him when he is talking to an attractive female who for one reason or another has no reason to be attracted to him. Nevertheless, they assume that she's a suitor and seek to attack and kill her to prevent the situation with the bishounen from being resolved."

"Hey, onee-chan. Oh deary deary me." I waved off the 'trooper. "Sorry, this'll take a bit." I turned back to the cell and grinned. "Whoa... it's kinda impressive you know him well enough to figure out what he means in such detail."

"Actually, I'm summing up the last 15 minutes."

"Heh. Hey wait, did you say rabid fangirls!?" I bolted my chair away from the table with a screech loud enough to cause the other 'troopers to look up.

"Yes," KJ replied, coming back on the line and growling with frustration. "And I don't have any non-lethal weaponry."

"I'll be right there!" I replied and signed off, already moving towards the doorway. I waved to the 'troopers. "See ya later, thanks for the drinks!"

I probably shouldn't have been giggling as much as I was. Fangirls...gorramit. There was nothing I hated more then a bunch of ravenous, mindless amoratii, to use the Latin. KJ didn't carry non lethal weapons, but I usually did. I'm too nice to get into serious fights, but I'm not stupid, and a solid *looking* Mace[tm] was usually enough to make people think twice. Of course, I did have the real one with me as well...

I shifted the weight around as I ran. Not the fastest, but I had sticking power. There was the real Mace on my back, the Poker and fake Mace on my belt, and the other thing tucked snugly next to the Mace on my back. If someone thought I was overarmed, they obviously hadn't been to many cons. At least in my opinion.

"More then enough to deal with a horde...ah ha, what have we here?" As they say, to find something or someone, just follow the screams. There were a few straggling fangirls streaming into a slightly open area ahead. Hmmm.

"Hey, ladies!" I shouted and grinned, coming up behind them and drawing the Poker. They tried to turn as I hooked it around one of their knees and jerked, bring the three of them into a messy pile. This caused a loud wailing, especially when I trod on them for good measure, seeking a round about way to get in front of KJ.

"That's not kawaiiiii!"

"Oh, shut up." A few extra trods and I was off.

I found a side passage, scrabbled up a low series of containers, and looked down. KJ was, to put it lightly, in a tight spot. Those girls looked especially pissed. "Bugger me...who the hell gave them those weapons? Hell on a *stick*, who the fuck tries to kill someone over...oh, bugger this." I drew the fake Mace and leaped down, grunting as I landed.

"Hey, kisama!" I addressed the mob, who backed off slightly in surprise. I'd knocked down a few of their number when I jumped, and KJ was grabbing a much deserved breather. "Ah ah ah." I darted forward and gave one girl a much deserved tap on the head with the fake Mace as she tried to get around me. "KJ, you holding up all right?"

"Been better." He grimaced when I looked over my shoulder. I grinned, maybe a little to widely.

"It's sweet, you bringing all these idiots...geez!" We both ducked as some ninja stars came whirring from one of the mob. "Fuck off, you lot, don't make me warn you again." I tossed the fake Mace to KJ. "Looks like the won't listen to reason."

"They do that?" KJ snorted and grabbed it. "Thanks."

"No problem." The mob surged forward again, and this time I drew the Poker.

The metallic *zwing* was enough to give them pause. I gently removed my bandana, allowing the infamous white hair to gather their attention. "All right, ladies, now. You have to options. Leave my friend alone, or get in a fight you're not going to win."

KJ came up beside me, and I could tell he was probably eyeing my hair with vague interest as well. I didn't usually uncover it often, and it was just now weaving into a rigidly tight french braid. One of the girls sputtered something in Japanese. KJ responded, and then there was some more muttered cursing. Then he looked over at me.

"Umm, they're not buying it."

"Oh deary deary me." I smiled pleasantly, and leaped into the fray. There was a few minutes hard fighting, and then we both had to run for it. I gaped at KJ as we ran. "Gorram, what the hell?"

"Eh, the usual. They're mad over bishounen."

"Gods, *bishis*" I muttered to myself as we reached another clearing. "All right, I've had enough of this shit. Stand back." I stopped and pivoted on one heel, facing the horde of pursuing fangirls. In a motion I'd practiced quite a lot on the ship, I sheathed the Poker and drew the *other thing* from my back. KJ, who'd skidded to a stop, was trying his best to keep his face straight.

It was funny as hell the way the girls piled into each other as the first row came to a rigid halt. The first row was now staring down the barrel of my custom crafted Strohl BH-209I. I pulled the trigger ever so slightly, and the ominous hummmmm was enough to cause anyone in ear shot to freeze. Hot damn, I thought. This is what I live for.

"Now, ladies, we're all very tired from running, and I'm sure there's been some serious misunderstanding on your part in regards to the redhead's," I jerked a free thumb over my shoulder, "Intentions. Believe me, hshe isn't interested in your bloody bishounen." I shifted the weight of the Strohl, casually holding it in their direction with one hand. "How about y'all piss off now, eh?" There was some uneasy shuffling and murmuring. I tensed, pulling the trigger ever so slightly in and causing a slightly louder hummmm. The whispering grew more frantic.

KJ tapped me on the shoulder. "Is that your Strohl?"

"Why yes, of course it is. You know there's only one like it in this universe." I whispered back. It didn't seem to encourage him. He shrugged. Suddenly, one of the girls again called out something in Engrish, and we both groaned in unison.

"They're still not buying it."

"ShiiiiiiT!" I had to pull the Strohl up, hard, towards the ceiling as the girls once again surged forward. "Shit! Plug your ears!"

"What!?" KJ yelled back. I mentally groaned. I only had a few seconds to pull this off, I hadn't done it before, and the Strohl was of course just a very fancy 'waved knock off. This was going to suck, it might not work, and KJ well, he'd get over it.

I looked straight at the fangirls and drew a breath. "GO AWAY."

The fangirls stopped and did topple over one another. They then turned and began to walk, and in some cases bolt, as casually as possible, probably deciding that the pair of us really wasn't worth the trouble. I couldn't see him yet, but KJ was probably surprised.

There was a brief moment of very loud silence as the few people still around tried to figure out what they just heard. I simply holstered the Strohl again and pulled my bandana back over my hair, and the noises of the con quickly filtered back in.

"... what was that?" KJ asked after a while, picking up her swords from where she'd dropped them in her haste to cover her ears.

I shugged. Contrary to all expectations, it had worked. Well, of course it had worked, I thought, perhaps a little bitterly. I always felt bad after getting into a fight. Yeah, they were fangirls, but stillWell, this whole thing confirmed what'd been lingering in my head ever since the biomod, and it didn't look like the whole Susan deal was going to go away. If anything, it had gotten worse.

"What was what?" Now that the post-combat irritation was fading, I felt the pleased giddiness that came with knowing that hot damn, I actually *had it*.

"The... whatever you said to make them turn around and leave?" KJ sheathed her blades.

"I just told them to go away. What did you hear? I thought I said to plug your ears." I looked over at her, vaguely curious. Given how loud, or not loud, depending on how you viewed it, the words were, plugging one's ears might not work all that well. What had she heard?

"Well yeah... with my hobbies when someone says to plug your ears you damned well do so. Aaaand... you're not going to answer what the trick is, are you." She smiles slightly.

I smiled back, looking off into the distance. "You might not want me to." And no, I didn't really want people finding out. This kind of thing could be, well, dangerous. Not that I minded that much having it, but other people might

"Well, whatever you say. Argh, damn, what an irritating way to end a conversation... first the sub vs. dub argument, then getting chased around by mostly crazed senshi." At this point she was more griping to herself than anything, it looked like. "And people always think it might be neat to have women chasing you around but when you're one too and they're trying to kill you it really sucks... and I'm not much about the senshi anyway... Seems I owe you a drink or several." KJ broke into most of a grin and started walking in a seemingly random direction.

I chuckled at her. "Poor dear. How's about I buy you a drink? I know a place where most folks of my ken gather...or would you rather have a bottle of cold water?" I grinned and slid into a half jog to keep up. Damn these tall folk and their long legs.

KJ scoffed. "Ugh, water... water's for swimming or showering, not drinking. Lead on, m'lady."

I turned and strode down another pathway. "Good heavens, who said anything about drinking it?" I gave the tall redhead a wink. "Thought you might want to freshen up a bit."

"Oh, I think I'll pass. Cold showers are rather far from enjoyable."

I cackled a little. "Enh, fair enough then. C'mon, right in here." I stepped through the door of a slightly ramshackle building, something that looked old and had been there a while. "Mind yer head!" And it had been, technically speaking; Watch-fen were great for playing with 'wavium sometimes.

KJ ducked under the doorway, probably being used to doing so in either gender.

The place was low and dark, probably only about 8 feet high. There was a scattered group of tables, a few people, a dart board, and a pool table. It doesn't look like much until you look behind the bar, which is *very* well stocked. I love the place. I waved in the general direction of the residents. "Here it is, the Gleaming Bucket. Oi all!" There were a few chuckles and a distant reply of "Oi, Susan!"

KJ looked around approvingly. "No bright colors... a proper pub, dammit." In her Hawaiian shirt, she was possibly the most colorful thing in the room, but no matter.

"No bright colours? Well, granted at the moment. But the Wizards haven't come back yet, or the place would be filled with more Pointy Hats and sequins then you'd be able to guess. " I giggled to myself. "They always dress up for the cons." I giggled some more at the look on KJ's face, as she blinked for a moment and then shook her head.

She sidled up to the bar and took a stool. "Pint of Guinness," she requested of the bartender. "And what do you want... Susan?" She added the emphasis on the last word with a slight grin.

I raised an eyebrow. "Har de har har. The only reason he said that is cause he thinks I can't see him thank you very much you *pozza*!" I shouted to the back of the bar. "But anyways, this is a proper pub. Any kind of drink in fen or 'danespace you can find here. I'll have an Irish carbomb." Mentally, I sighed. Things were bad enough in our little faction when the Watch found out about the hair, but once they found out what happened earlierugh. We're an easy bunch, but we're still fen.

KJ nodded to the barkeep. "What the lady said, please..." and shrugged at me. "Meh, I got ye stupid adventurous streak done a long time ago... otherwise I'd be half tempted to see if they knew a PPC."

I nodded. "Prolly. Don't know it myself, but." I grabbed a pint glass and quickly drained it, the shot glass in side clinking against my teeth. "Damme! That hit it...if the barkeep doesn't know it, someone here does. The Watch is usually a font of information like that."

"Well, ever hear of Battletech?" KJ leaned on the bar and nursed her Guinness

"Naw, not me. You can tell I'm more fantasy oriented." I waved in the general direction of my hair and took a seat.

"Granted. Well, American giant robot tactical wargame thingie... then a whole bunch of people did fiction writing in the universe it took place in. Whole mess of books. Anyway, PPC came from that, named after a fairly nasty particle cannon." There was a faint, fond gleam in her eye as she spoke.

I rolled mine. "Ah huh. Details?"

"Well, the specifics depend on what faction you order. Steiner uses peppermint schnapps, Kurita uses sake, Liao uses plum wine, Marik uses ouzo, Davion uses bourbon, or tequila if in the Capellan March. But it's two shots of that, plus 4 of everclear. It's one of those things that's up there in wisdom with the pan-galactic gargle blaster." Definite grin this time.

I flinched. There was a quiet sniggering from the barkeep at the mention of the Pan-Galatic. Oh gods. Coming up with dangerous drinks in a place like this was just asking for trouble, no doubt by tomorrow there'd be at least three hospitalizations. "Ah, yeah. Now that he's heard it, you can be sure barkeep here's going to remember it. Idly, don't ever ask for the Pan-Galatic Gargle Blaster. We suspect he's 'waved one of the drink mixers."

" 'Waved a drink mixer"

"Yeah. Y'see, in the universe we occupy it's not technically possible to make some drinks made famous by their literary origins." There was a polite snort from my companion. "So the barkeep there" I pointed to where he'd drifted to the storeroom. "him, he decides to make a special mixer, coats it with handwavium, and next thing y'know he's making money hand over fist and has created the first real PGGB."

KJ took a pull from her Guinness. "Nah, like I said, I'm no longer young and stupid."

I giggled. "Well, what do you want to do now, aside from hanging here and drinking? I think those fangirls have given up on you."

"I dunno, maybe we should go back and I could get a grenade launcher with riot baton loads, just in case..." she replied with a grin. I'm pretty sure she wasn't being serious

"Oh, that sounds lovely. Can I help?" I grinned back.

"Joking, joking... besides, I don't have any riot loads." She just gave me an amused look.

"Heh. Well, if there's a way to figure out how to get it to fire fluffy pillows at a reasonable turn of speed..."

KJ finished her Guinness in one long pull and sighed with pleasure. "Well... night is yet young; wanna go see if we can find some more trouble?"

I thought carefully for a minute. "Well, yeah, obviously. You don't want to, ah" I hesitated briefly and blushed. Probably inserting foot in mouth here. KJ looked at me askance, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"Well, change?" KJ looked down at herself as I spoke. I have to admit, even though I had seen her like this before, enough so that I was getting used to using the female words, it was stillweird. I dunno, it was silly anyways.

She spoke casually. "You get used to it, and I can't really turn back for a while. Well, I could but I'm not going to."

"Oh, sorry."

"Nothing like that. But how much would you imagine in hurts to have your anatomy shift around that much? Well, it actually doesn't... once a day." KJ grimaced, and I winced, nodding in sympathy.

"Yeah, that would suck. Anyways, I heard the some Space Pirates just came in. Wanna go check it out?" I slapped some change on the bar, KJ doing the same. She grinned.

"Hey, that sounds like fun."

"Yeah.oh! One more thing." I pointed behind us as we left the building. "This place is kind of a local watering hole for the Watch. We don't mind visitors, butwell, there's other bars, and we sometimes like to be just alone amongst ourselves. The place moves a lot, has a lot of different names, but if you're in the know it's not too hard to find."

"How's that?" KJ briefly looked over her shoulder in interest. "That place looks like it's been there forevernot that that actually means anything."

I chuckled. "You're right. The whole building's been 'waved. I don't know how, but once he chases everyone out, the barkeep hits a button on the outside, the thing folds up a little, and next thing y'know, it's a old wooden trailer hooked up to a pickup."

"Must've been a hell of a 'wave job." KJ looked impressed.

"Oh yeah. Everytime the name changes the building comes out looking a little different." I shrugged and shifted towards the general direction of the docking area. "C'mon, let's find some pirates."

"Yarrrr."


	24. And I'm Looking For a Rest Stop

**...or "Free soap! For the entire Con!"**

I leaned back in my seat, and smiled. Fred had gone on ahead two days ago, to settle in before the con. He needed the extra time to get used to the people and his new biomod. I'd meet up with him again there. I listened with half an ear as Fate made the arrangements for our arrival on Phobos. With something the size of the _Lightning,_ we didn't fit into most spaces set up for the usual Fen vehicles. Sounded like we were going to be in a parking orbit, and go in via the shuttle. I was looking forward to getting down there; I needed to do a lot of shopping. I was getting tired of wearing belted t-shirts for clothing...and while I'd managed to arrange for something else, there were...drawbacks. I glanced down at what I was wearing, and grimaced.

  
***flashback***

  
I shivered as I pulled the sopping-wet white t-shirt on over my head. "Gah.....I HATE wet clothing." Currently, I was wearing a pair of jean-shorts tied with a piece of rope to keep them up around my waist, and the t-shirt. Both pieces of clothing were wet - having been soaked in liquid handwavium. I didn't know if this would work or not...but it was the fastest way I could think of that might give me something my size. If only it didn't mean wet fabric against bare skin...including the family jewels. No matter how this came out, I didn't see it working to make a wearable pair of briefs...which meant I was currently going commando. Bleah.

I wandered around the lab a bit, letting the fabric slowly dry. Clotho chuckled softly. "You could've let the stuff cure without wearing it, Kev."

I sighed, and nodded. "I know. But actually wearing the stuff has the best chance of getting something my current size. At least, with luck. Gods only know what would happen if I just let it sit around to cure." I snorted. "Of course, gods only know what'll happen WITH wearing it."

After maybe fifteen minutes of puttering around, I shivered as I felt the fabric start to...move. Over the course of another twenty minutes or so, I watched...and shivered...as the sleeves on my shirt stretched down to my wrists, and the fabric thickened as the shirt grew smaller. The sensation of the bottoms of my jean-shorts stretching down along my bare legs made me want to shudder as well. Talk about your skin wanting to creep. What I finally wound up with was a long-sleeved shirt that felt more like terrycloth than the thin t-shirt I started with, and a pair of jeans. Glancing back, I even saw a tailhole. Nice. Then I frowned. The shirt looked...jaundiced? It was slowly going yellow...and the jeans were going...green. I watched as the fabric slowly shifted in color...going an all-too-familiar shade. Before too much longer, I looked like the most ardent Chudley Cannons fan in existence. I groaned. "OK....have you girls been playing my Dragonball tapes near the handwavium? I swear, it's obsessing more on the show than I do, and that's saying something..."

Clotho snickered, "Not me, Kev. Don't know about the others, but I don't think so. Maybe it just likes orange?"

I snorted. "Yeahsureyoubetcha." Then I sighed. "At least they mostly fit....and beggars can't be choosers." I looked down at my jeans. "Still...orange denim?"

  
***end flashback***

  
I shook my head. Orange....while I liked both Goku and Naruto, it simply wasn't my color. Blues, greens, burgundy....but not orange. I was definitely looking forward to clothes shopping for once. The 'belt' of brown fur against the bright color made me smile, though - even if I would have to do a bit of tailoring to arrange for tailholes. I'd FINALLY managed to learn the trick of wrapping my tail around my waist. I sent up a mental apology to the spirit of Son Goku, wherever he might reside - I'd always been amused by his reactions to having his tail squeezed. It was something else entirely when it was MY tail. The first time I'd plopped into a chair and landed on it...AIE! It had made figuring out this particular little trick go to the head of the list of things to do.

Fate ended her conversation. "All right, Kevin. I've got us a parking orbit. Have you got everything you want packed aboard Merlin?"

I nodded, grinning. "Not like I have clothes to take. Got the con table packed in the trunk, and the spacesuit along, just in case. Plus rope to tie it up, since otherwise I'd look like a kid raiding his dad's closet."

She chuckled quietly. "True enough. The parking spot in question is pressurized, so you won't need it when you get there."

"That's good. Have you and the other ladies got the drones aboard?"

"All aboard, along with the usual Con gear. Everything's been tested and checked OK, so we're good to go."

I nodded, grinning. "Let's get this show on the road, then."

 

* * *

  
Sumpter trailed along behind me, serving as a cart for the various things we'd need at Con. A cloud of toys floated around and behind me - small race cars, a wooden toy locomotive, a few boats, some larger RC cars...some of them being ridden by small Robosapiens dolls. "OK...you girls spread out and map out things again. If you find anything interesting, let me know. And don't forget to set the cams up in the panel rooms. I don't want to miss anything."

A chuckle came from one of the cars, the Irish lilt identifying Lachesis. "We know the drill, lad. Don't worry about it."

I chuckled wryly. "Sorry.... you know me." I shrugged, starting through the lock that separated the parking from the main section. As we got inside, I took a step forward...and then barely managed not to stagger backwards, reaching out to grip the edge of the doorframe.

"GAH!" I shuddered, breathing in shallow pants.

"Father?" Atropos' voice came from another car. "What's the matter? Are you OK?"

I waved a hand, still trying to get used to.... "Smells. Too many....gah." I shook my head. "Wish....I'd become Kuririn now, I think. No nose...would be a good thing...."

That got a small giggle from Clotho. "No nose....but how would you smell?"

I gave the boat a mock-glare. "Awful. No...Foglio jokes." I was slowly becoming used to the olfactory assault, but... "Gods....girls? Imagine someone taking all of Beethoven's symphonies, and playing them at full volume. All in the same room." I shuddered. "Nothing hugely bad...just...overwhelming."

Atropos snorted. "Sounds wonderful. You feeling any better?"

I nodded slowly, starting to be able to take deeper breaths without being overpowered. "Some...this is gonna take getting used to. Don't know how dogs do it..."

Another snort from Atropos. "They grow up with it. You've had it for less than two weeks. Give yourself time."

I sighed, nodding. "I know, I know. Just a shock. Should've expected it, but...." I shrugged. "Oh well. Let's go get the table set up in our spot, then we can drop the rest of the stuff off at the hotel." I grinned. "Then....clothing. Non-orange clothing." The girls chuckled, and we headed into the con. Fortunately, my sense of smell was apparently dulling as we went along, in self-defense. I was willing to bet I'd have to get used to things all over again, every time I was away from the main areas, but....at least I'd be able to function. Hitting the dealers' area, the small table we used at Con was up. There were a few books with the standard types of mods that I did, along with pictures on display and my rates for commission works posted. The large Robosapiens we brought with us was left to handle the table under the gimlet eye of Lachesis, while most of the cloud of toy drones started to scatter through the con. That left me with a few small racing cars riding shotgun near my shoulders...and one robot bird perching ON my shoulder. "Should I have brought an eyepatch? Or maybe a cyber eyepiece? We could've done the Planet Pirate from the Key to Time arc...."

Fate's chuckle sang out from the bird. "You're a bit small for that role. Now, BEFORE the biomod, we should've considered it."

I laughed, and nodded. "C'mon. Let's get the rest of the gear stashed. I am VERY desperate for new clothes. Especially briefs." That got giggles from the peanut gallery, and we headed out into the crowds.


	25. Legends Begin In Unlikely Places

I felt kinda bad about it, but if I didn't get out of there fast then I would get pulled to pieces by about a hundred crazed Fen-girls. That's the thing about these girls - they come after you en masse, but the instant you come onto one of them you're a pervert. Looking around, I found the entrance to the kitchen and made a dive for it, confusing the hell out of the wait staff. It wouldn't be long until that confusion shifted to unreasoning desire so I started looking for an exit.

"Back door back door back door there's gotta be a back door to this place!" I muttered inanely.

"This way," said a voice as a hand caught a firm grip on my left wrist. For a moment I was startled and then saw that it was the Tuxedo Kamen Barkeep. The Sailor Senshi staff parted way for the Barkeep like the Red Sea for Moses as he led me to the back door.

"Thanks a bunch," I said fervently to the Barkeep.

"Don't worry about it. I've been in your shoes before. Now get going. The sooner they realize you're gone, the less property damage they'll do."

"Are you insured?" I asked.

"Yeah, and this wouldn't be the first time it's happened either."

Inwardly, I winced at thinking of what his premiums must be like. "Thanks again, sir," I said, giving him a jaunty salute with my right hand as I went through the back door. After the door shut behind me, I could still hear all the femme-fens in the distance. Hopefully, security would bring things under control soon enough and I could venture out of this alleyway. Or I could just move through the alleys.

Just as I was beginning to catch my breath a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed my right arm. "Aha!" a very loud and very female voice cried out. "I knew you'd show yourself sooner or later!"

Oh hell, I thought. I tried to twist my way out the femmefan's grasp. Unfortunately, The Arm With A Mind Of It's Own had other ideas. Using my moment of panic and sensing a female was touching it, it suddenly reacts and glomps the girl's... Uhm...

"GAH!!!" we both scream at once.

"BAD HAND! BAD HAND! NO NO NO!" I yell at the lecherous arm as I force it to let go.

"HENTAI YAROU!" screams the girl once she is free and I suddenly duck a fist from her.

"Oh shit," I mutter as I duck and dodge more attacks. "Look, lady, I'm sorry!" Dodge! "My biomod-" Sidestep! "-has a mind of it's own-" Duck! "-and it has a thing for cute girls!" Contact.

Kerpow!

Ouch. That girl has one hell of an uppercut, I reflect from down on the ground.

The girl then stood over me and said, "And why should I believe any of that?"

As I sat up, my right arm suddenly lunged for her once more. Jeeze, this thing was such a pain. "Okay, that does it. You're grounded!" Some people have noticed that I wear an unusually utilitarian belt and a restraining cuff on my right arm. There was a reason for this, of course. I grabbed the clip that was hanging off the cuff and clipped it to the belt. My arm made several frenzied movements as it tried to break free, but it was no use. The hand lacked the dexterity to undo the clip. Once it figured this out, it sagged in defeat.

"That's why," I said pointedly to the girl. "Hello, my name is Benjamin Rhodes, and this is my lecherous right arm that is actually a lot more useful than it looks. And you would be?"

She then gave me a predatory smile. I did not like that smile. It told me to run, run if you want, but it's too late. "I'm Haruhi Suzumiya," she said, "and you've just been drafted. Welcome to the SOS-dan!"

I raised an eyebrow at this. "You're the SOS-dan? Okay, first off, nobody drafts me. They hire me. Second, what's the Convention call for, anyways? Your letter could have been a bit more well worded."

Her eyebrow started to twitch. Apparently mentioning the letter was the wrong thing to say. Whoops. She grabbed my shirt and hauled me up to a sitting position. "Listen, you," she growled, "I put out a call for heroes to band together and save the galaxy, *not* for you to criticize my writing. And when I say you're drafted, you. Are. Drafted." She gave my shirt a little extra shake for emphasis.

I blinked. "Wait, what? Save the galaxy?"

"From the raiders, you idiot!"

I was getting even more confused. "The raiders are threatening the galaxy?"

"Not yet! But they *could,* and that's the important thing!"

"Wait, hold on. You're telling me that the raiders could be a threat to the galaxy, and that wee need to fight them. I've got that part. But why are you manhandling *me?*"

"Because if we're going to fight the raiders we need a fleet, and if we have a fleet we'll need pilots, and if we have pilots we need a dashing - if lecherous - bishounen leading the pack." She said that with such absoulte authority and in such a reasonable tone that I didn't have an immediate comeback.

"Okay, lemme recap here. You feel that the Raiders are going to become a threat to the Galaxy in general if we don't do something about them and you want me to be Pilot?"

"Isn't that what I just said!?" she yelled in my face.

"Easy there. Just making sure I got it right." she finally decided to let me go at that point. "Now, I got one question for you. Have you given any thought whatsoever about what sort of ship's you're going to be using? Because I've got the greatest idea in mind."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hang on a second," I said as I began to dig through the inside-pocket of my jacket, pulled out a photo, and handed it to Haruhi. It depicted as sharp, sleek, black form, like as if someone made an aircraft in the likeness of a cobra only with a sharp nose, delta wings, and a pair of huge engines. It screamed the word 'FAST' and was flying over a picturesque desert mountain range.

"Very impressive," she said, unimpressed.

"The SR-71 Blackbird," I said. "Fastest Mundane airplane ever built. And if I'm gonna be your bishounen ace pilot, I've got to be flying something that fits my image, right?"

Haruhi gave me a skeptical look. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"

I shrugged. "Think of it as a contract negotation. If you can help me get one of these-" I tapped the photo "-then I'll be your ace pilot. Otherwise, no deal."

Haruhi looked at the photo, looked at me, looked back at the photo. For a long moment I almost thought she'd slug me again and walk off. "Fine," she snapped. "We'll do this your way." She looked over he shoulder. "KYON!"

A man stepped out from behind the bar's dumpster. He looked sort of like Philip Marlowe, only younger and Japanese. "What have you done now?" he asked.

"Kyon, this is Ben Rhodes," Haruhi replied, magnificently ignoring his question. "He's just joined up as our Ace Pilot." She thrust the photo towards Kyon. "He's going to need one of these as his ship. Get one."

Kyon took one look at the photo, and then he looked at me. All I could do was look back. "Um, this could be difficult," he said.

"Do I look like I care?" Haruhi demanded. "Just get it! The future of the SOS-dan and civilization itself depend on it!" Kyon just sighed at this. Obviously he was an old Haruhi hand.

"Allright, allright. I'll get right on it."

Poor guy, I thought to myself. Honestly hate to be in his shoes. Right then, I resolved that if there was one thing I wasn't gonna do, it was be intimidated by this young lady. Though I did have to admit, she was kinda cute despite being a girl who-

That thought was cut short as my right arm reacted to the 'cute girl' thought, straining wildly at the restraints.

"No!" I snapped at my arm. "You did wrong and now you're gonna stay like that for a while!" It slumped once again in disappointment. I looked back to Haruhi, who was eyeing me cautiously.

I shrugged. "Don't blame me, it was The Professor's handiwork. Anyhow, you got me now, but I'll need a few months to work on the Blackbird. I'm going to be having The Professor help me out, maybe one or two others for smaller things. Who will I be reporting to and what will the chain of command be like?" I had to get this information. If I was gonna do this, then I was not gonna let it be some half-assed effort on my part. I was gonna make sure that I was ahead of the game.

"You'll find out at the opening session tomorrow," she said, then turned away. "C'mon, Kyon. We've got more recruits to pick up." Haruhi strode off down the alleyway, adjutant in tow, and vanished into the crowd of fen on the main avenue.

So much for being ahead of the game.

With a sigh I got moving. It sounded like things had settled down at the Tipsy Senshi, so maybe if I was careful and inobtrusive I'd go unnoticed. I dispelled my two remaining shell-bullet spikes on my back, getting a little pick-me-up from the energy I'd reclaimed, and began to make my way to the hotel.

Along the way I stopped at Fred Galagher's stall and picked up a 'Ninj4' hoodie, so I actually managed to get to the Hotel without incident. I wonder why I never thought of it before. Besides, I always liked Fred's work and he thought it was cool to hear that from a BNF like me. I then told him that if he ever needed a ride than it would be on me, so long as he kept doing what he was doing and left him my card.

Once I was at the hotel, I sat down at the complimentary rental laptop I'd ordered and opened a link to Gina.

"Hey there, Bj," said the read headed AI as her window popped up. She then smiled mischievously. "Heard you got some action."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Oh, get real. It couldn't have been that bad you whiney baby"

I gave her a level look. "My guess was that there must have been about a hundred and fifty of them."

Gina blinked at that. "Okay, that's a new record. Any other news? Love the hoodie, by the way."

"Thanks. Uhm, well, you remember the SOS-dan, right? Well, their leader decided to draft me for the cause in person. Good news is that I managed to get a Blackbird outta her."

"WHOAH!" she screamed, leaning back from the 'camera'. Suddenly she leaned back forward close enough so I could see the details of her blue-eyes. "You got a Blackbird outta her!? When's it getting here!?"

"Hold on, there's bad news, too. I think I'm gonna be her beck-and-call boy for a while."

"WHAT!" she said, her face a 1000 watt glare all the sudden. "Benjamin, you dumkopf! How could you do something so idiotic!"

"Hey, like as if I had a choice," I said defensively. "It was like facing a press gang!"

"Ugh, Benjamin! You gotta stop being so weak around all those other females," she said, spitting the word 'females' out like it was something vile.

"This coming from someone who is a female herself?" I said teasingly. "Is it just me or are you getting all protective over me?"

Gina's face turned red to match her hair. "Only to make sure that I get to stick around!" she snapped. She then went on with an upturned nose, "You made me and that's all the feelings I have for you."

"Good," I said with a grin. "Then you're one less female I have to worry about."

She suddenly glared at me and bit off something in rude German, then cut the connection. I chortled merrily at that. She'll come back online in a few minutes, ready to talk. When she does, I'll have her get in touch with The Professor, The Jason, The Rockhounds, and Wire Geek. If I was gonna be taking delivery of the Blackbird, then that meant I wouldn't have to blow the money I'd been saving on NASA's 'Bird. That meant I'd have money to blow on more useful things, like a base of operations and power-toys for the Blackbird.

Oh yeah, this was gonna be good.


	26. Leaves From the Jason's Notebook

Fate's voice sang from the earbud I was wearing. "Kevin, it appears there's a problem. You're currently one-third a Naruto."

My eyebrows went up as I paused for a moment in my exploration of the dealers' area. "One-third a Naruto?" Clotho answered, "What she means is, you're currently a _sanbi."_

I blinked, one hand going to my waist to stroke the brown, furry 'belt' there. Then my eyes glanced around the room. "I know one tail...where are the other two?"

With the girls telling me where to look, I was able to catch glimpses of the two people who were apparently following me. One was a guy about my age...former age, maybe late thirties or so, dark hair and fairly well built. The other was younger - not quite fenkinder but close. Early college, if that, I'd say. The kid was also dark-haired, and from the glimpses I could get of the two, I'd say they were related somehow. Both were in jeans and t-shirts, but while that's normal fannish dress, the older man appeared slightly...disconcerted by the goings-on around him. Probably not a fan, then...or else very new to space. Maybe both.

"OK. Fate, any more info on the two?"

"A bit, Kevin. The older one is Henry Jackson, and the younger is James Riley. Security footage shows them dropped off from a van earlier in the day, and they checked into one of the cheaper hotels under those names. That's all I could find topside so far. I'm checking Earthside now."

I blinked. "Um....Fate? Far be it from me to question you, but...security footage?" When she replied, I could swear I heard her blush. "Probably best if you don't know, father. Some friends of mine are doing the Earthside checks as we speak." There was a momentary pause, then she spoke again. "They did find the two listed with driver's licenses under those names. New Jersey issue. Nothing immediately apparent on the younger one, but Jackson has had some arrests. A few cases of assault, one death that was ruled self-defense. He was apparently serving as a bodyguard for someone, and they were attacked." She hrmed softly. "Probability is high that these two are related to the zwilnik that we met a while back. Or something similar."

I nodded thoughtfully. "OK. We need to find out what they want. Easiest way to do that..." I smiled slowly. "Hmm. We need to pick up a few things. Lachesis? Could you send a drone to that one booth we went by a while back? The one run by the Gor fen? Then...." I outlined what I thought we should do, and the girls made a few suggestions of their own. We continued to wander the room, the girls keeping my extra tails under surveillance as we worked out our plan. When we were ready, I started off, away from the con proper. Keeping to busier parts of the corridors, I headed, not towards the hotel room I took to be near the con, but the suite that the Martian terraformers had arranged for me on Phobos. Part of a retainer - I got a nice place whenever I needed to stretch my legs and get off the _Lightning_ for a bit, they got **very** good discounts on anything they needed me to make for them.

I kept up a steady pace, the girls' voices in my earbud letting me know that the two men were still following. Then I turned down a small, empty hallway, one that curved around and hid the main corridor from sight after a few yards. I could hear the men starting to pick up their pace, and I turned and waited. When they came in sight, they stopped, apparently startled that I was standing there ready for them. "Did you two want something?" I'd be more worried, but the hall had been left dimly lit....and the shadows held a few surprises.

The older man snorted. "You the Jason? Heard talk that you were, but you don't look like what we expected." I nodded. "You heard right. This is a recent biomod. What do you want?" The guy - Henry - frowned. "Couple things. We're trying to find out what happened to a...messenger we sent to you. He was supposed to offer you a job. And we're to maybe get you to take the job, too."

This was my turn to snort. "You mean the rude bastard that threatened not only me, but my friends and family and customers? The one that wanted me to make an enslavement drug?" James, the younger one, looked nervous, and Henry started to look grim as he realized that I had indeed met their messenger. "I told him no. He wouldn't listen. When he started making threats, I introduced him to the concept that threatening a ship named from a _battle hymn_ is remarkably stupid." I gave a slow smirk. "I blew him out of space. You thought only the Professor had weapons-grade handwavium?"

Both of the men had tensed up when they heard that particular little account of events. The older one reached into his pocket, and I went into alert mode as well. I was pretty sure that we could disarm him if he had a gun or knife, but... When he drew out brass knuckles and slipped them on, I almost grinned in relief. OK. That I could handle. Possibly even better than most, given what the 'wave had done to me. But with luck, I wouldn't need to. Henry spoke up, "We're gonna have a long talk, looks like. Then you **are** gonna work for us."

I shook my head sadly as the two started towards me. "I have only one thing to say to that." They got a little closer, though the younger one started to look curious, and asked, "What...?" I interrupted him before he could complete the question, and grinned at them. "Hey rube!" At that, my girls went into action.

Two small toy cars zoomed forward from where they'd been hiding in shadows and slammed into the thugs' stomachs, drawing twin 'ooofs' then gasps for air as they tried to breathe. Combined with that, two more toy drones each slammed into their shoulders a moment later. I'd already started running forward, and as they bent around their abused stomachs, momentarily stunned by the sudden reversal of the ambushers being ambushed, I got in range. And being conveniently bent up and off-balance, their heads were now in arms' reach for my new body. They really shouldn't have bunched together...I managed to grab their heads and slam them together with a nice, satisfying 'thunk'...watching as their eyes actually rolled up and they dropped.

I breathed heavily, crashing from the adrenaline rush very quickly. "OK...that worked far better than we had any hope of praying for...and probably wouldn't have at all if this new body weren't in a **lot** better shape than I'm used to." I shook my head, "Helped that they didn't expect us to be ready for them." Atropos agreed, "Got that right. So....call security, or..." I shook my head again. "No...not yet. I'd **like** to know who's after me. Let's do what we discussed." The door at the end of the hall opened, and _Sumpter_ came out, the big drone we brought to carry supplies. "Let's get these two inside and set things up." I managed to drag the two unconscious men onto the drone, and then we headed into the suite, the door shutting behind us.

As soon as we got the door closed, I had _Sumpter_ bring the pair of unconscious thugs to the suite's bedroom. "Lachesis, is the stuff here?" She answered through my earbud. "All here and ready. The sack on the bed." I saw it, and went to work.

First, I stripped the thugs of their t-shirts; I wanted to get this done quickly before they woke up. I didn't make a habit of cracking people's heads together, so I wasn't sure how long we had to work. Once they were shirtless, I propped the pair up against the end of the bed, one on either side. It was a nice bed, a brass one, king-size...and very sturdy and heavy. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. Ah, Gor fen. They had odd habits, but did carry nice toys. The cuffs were even lined. I cuffed the thugs to the bed, hands behind their backs with the cuffs going around the corner bedposts.

Boots were next, and socks. Then jeans. Once the pair were clad only in their underwear, I hesitated a moment, considering. For the scene I was setting up, being stripped completely would make them feel even more vulnerable and helpless. On the other hand...they weren't exactly bad-looking. I don't think that I'd toss either of them out of bed for eating crackers, for instance. I was going to have enough trouble staying focused to pull this off without the added distraction. I nodded. Leave the underwear. For now, at least. Hopefully the psychological impact of just being in their briefs would be enough.

I took out two more pairs of cuffs, and cuffed their ankles. Then I pulled out a pair of ball-gags. The suite had enough surrounding rock that it was doubtful anybody could hear anything, even if they yelled. Still...I didn't want them talking until I was ready for it, so...I gagged them, and then sat back to wait for them to wake up. While I was waiting, I went through their wallets. Driver's licenses did match what Fate had told me, and the pictures were indeed the pair in front of me. They held the usual wallet clutter, and Henry had a fair amount of cash in his. I didn't really find anything incriminating, though. I paused a moment, considering...and before they woke up, tried to prepare for things in one last way. I went to each thug, and took in a deep breath through my nose, concentrating on what they smelled like. Theoretically....I might be able to smell changes in their emotions - fear, nervousness - in their scents. That'd be damned useful in questioning them and getting correct answers. I took several long moments, trying to memorize what they smelled like at the moment. Then I sat back and waited. We'd see.

The older man groaned, and started to stir. I took a deep breath. Just about time to see how good of an actor I could be. I moved forward, and slapped Henry on the cheeks - not too hard, just enough to try and wake him up and get his attention. When his eyes blinked open, I turned to the kid and did the same. Henry jerked as he realized he was nearly naked...and cuffed. He struggled, muffled noises coming from the gag in his mouth, and then he relaxed and settled in to glaring at me. James, the kid, eventually woke up and went through the same brief struggle, only he was looking a lot more nervous when he finally relaxed. Definitely not as hard a case as Henry. Well....I knew who to concentrate on.

Now that they were both awake and focused on me, I gave them a bright, manic grin. "Good morning. So glad you could join me. It's a shame it couldn't be under better circumstances." I shook my head, then grinned at them again. "I'm sure you're wondering why I haven't turned you over to security. I considered it, but I really need to know more about who sent you. You **are** going to tell me, right?" That got glares from both of them.

I shook my head, looking sad for a moment. "You **do** realize you don't have a choice? I **will** get the information from you one way or another." Another manic grin, and I leaned foward, my voice going soft. "It's never a smart idea to threaten a mad scientist, you know. There are so **many** things I could do to you." I chuckled. "I could just turn you over to security...after I biomod you." The pair jerked at that, and I nodded to them, grinning. "Uh-huh. I'm **very** good at biomodding. That's why you lot came looking for me. I figure I could change the pair of you so you look around my age or so...and then just give you over to security. I'm sure your boss would love to get you back like that. Though I doubt you'd get your old jobs back." They didn't look happy at the thought. "Or....I could biomod you and keep you for myself." A slow smirk. "Add in loyalty to me...you'd answer everything I wanted then, and be happy doing it." I reached out and patted James on the cheek. "Think I should go that route?" He shook his head quickly, eyes going a bit wide. Henry gave me a muffled growl through his gag.

I sighed. "Still...even for me, biomodding can be chancy. Perhaps I should go with cruder methods." I smiled slowly...evilly. "Copper wire is **very** good at getting people to talk." I took a deep breath through my nose. Their scents **had** changed. Henry's...well, based on his expression, I'd guess a mixture of anger and fear for the reason. The kid's, though...he was out-and-out scared now.

I reached out, and started to trace a fingertip slowly down James' chest. "It can fit into some really interesting places in the male anatomy, for instance. And it conducts heat so well. There are two of you. I could do one of you, and then I'm **sure** the other one would be willing to talk." I chuckled, tracing my fingertip lower. "Roast sausage on a stick?" I snapped the waistband of the younger thug's briefs, and he actually gave a muffled squeak and tried to shrink back from me, eyes **very** wide now as he stared at me. "Or you could just talk, and save me the effort. And yourselves a lot of pain. You **do** want to tell me what I want to know, right?" It was clearly too much of a threat for the kid, who started to nod his head frantically in agreement, muffled noises coming from behind his gag. The scent of his fear was almost overpowering. Henry was trying to speak as well, but he was glaring at me still. Better to leave him gagged.

Patting James on the shoulder, I smiled at him. "OK, kid. I'm going to take off the gag, and then you're going to tell me everything I want to know. Then I'll even turn you over to security." I grinned. "I'm sure you'll feel a **lot** safer with them than with me." He nodded again, and I took off the gag, and began to ask questions. He was more than happy to answer them, too, even with Henry making muffled complaints through his gag. I got the name of his boss, and confirmed that Henry and James really were the pair's names, though they apparently went by Hank and Jimmy. Jimmy was the older guy's nephew, it seemed. That explained the resemblance. The kid had just joined in the last few months, after the deaths of his parents, and Hank had taken him in. Their boss had indeed tried to recruit me because of my reputation, and didn't seem likely to take no for an answer even now. I'd have to work on that. It seems he'd been assigned to come look for me because he was something of a fan, and could hopefully serve as a guide. Hank had been assigned because he was the kid's uncle, and had been serving their boss for some time. As I ran out of questions to ask, and after I asked a few that Fate wanted answers to as well, I sat back and nodded. "All right, kid. You did what I asked. Relax. I won't hurt you." I patted his shoulder again, and he swallowed nervously.

Hank was still glaring at me, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "You have something to say?" I took off the man's gag, curious. He immediately began cursing me...starting with my ancestry and working his way up. When he started to run out of insults, he just growled at me. "Fucking **bastard!** The boss'll kill him now!" I frowned at him. "You going to tell your boss he told me things? Jimmy doesn't have to, and I certainly won't. If you don't, he should be fine. Just tell them I captured you, and turned you over to security. You can even mention what I told you about your messenger." Hank shook his head, staring at me angrily. "He'll **know.** He's got this new guy working for him, last couple of months. Like some of the other weirdos that are around this place. Guy's got funny ears - like a dog - and a tail. Boss has him hooked on the new drug he wanted help with. The funny guy knows when people are lying." Jimmy had been listening, and was starting to look pale. It was clear he was getting scared again, and I sat back and considered the situation.

Scaring the pair to get them talk was OK. They'd threatened me, so turnabout was certainly fair play. It wasn't as if I'd actually meant to carry through with any of my threats. And for all of that, they'd only threatened me and not even about killing me. From the way Hank had started in, it was clear he'd meant to leave me alive. In a fight...well, if I'd had to be responsible for a death in a fight, that was one thing. But even partial responsibilty for a death when I wasn't in immediate danger...I shook my head mentally. That was different. I chewed my lip, regarding Hank. "I think I know what the guy is doing. You ever see him take deep breaths when he's listening to people?" The guy looked uncertainly at me, clearly still angry, but...he nodded slowly. I sighed. "Hell. He can do the same thing I was trying with the pair of you. And is apparently good at it." Both of them were looking at me now.

Tapping the side of my nose, I sighed. "My biomod came with an enhanced sense of smell. I wasn't sure it would work, but...I tried it out on you two. I could smell when you were getting scared of me. I'm pretty sure your guy can do the same, and is probably a lot more practiced than I am. You're right...he would be able to tell if the kid lied to him." I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes closing, and sighed. If the kid went back, he was probably going to die. And even though their boss would order it done...I'd be at least partially responsible for scaring him into talking. Some people could live with that on their karma. Me... I opened my eyes, and looked at Jimmy. "OK. You're not going back, and I'm not turning you over to security. You're going to stay in Fenspace. You can stay with me until we find you something, or until it's safe for you to go Earthside again."

The pair stared at me as if I had suddenly started speaking Klingon. I shook my head. "Well, it's not like I can let him go back to die." They were still staring, but Jimmy looked at me and swallowed. "What...about my uncle? If I don't come back, I doubt..." Hank glared at him. "Shut up. I'll be OK." I took a deep breath. Anger...and a bit of fear. Apparently, he wasn't quite so sure of that. I bit my lip. Damn it...I did some glaring of my own, at Hank. "Fate said you were acquitted for killing a man. Was it really self-defense? Tell me...I'll know if you lie. And what were your assault charges for?"

Hank stared at me as if I were crazy...crazier, maybe. He snorted. "It was self-defense...guy tried a hit on the boss, and I took him down. His boss started the stuff, we didn't. Assaults...a couple bar fights, a bit of heavy work on other bosses' people. I don't do heavy work often. Mostly I'm a guard." I nodded slowly. I...could live with that. It wasn't as if my own hands were exactly clean, even if the force I'd used had been warranted by the threats made. And the guy clearly cared about his nephew, which was a positive. I shook my head. I **knew** I'd regret this. "All right, kid. If he wants, he can stay as well. I've got enough space to put the pair of you up until you can find something." I glared at Hank. "You had better not give me trouble."

I got the disbelieving looks again. Jimmy was looking grateful. Hank..."Just like that, you'll take us in? After we were gonna beat you up and force ya to work for us?" I sighed, and gave him a half-hearted glare. "It's more for the kid's sake than yours. But even then....you were only going to beat me up. You didn't threaten more, and you didn't threaten anyone but me. Which puts you miles ahead of the first idiot your boss sent to speak with me. As for the rest of it...I refuse to be responsible for your deaths. Sending you back sounds as though it would ensure that. So....I don't send you back. And since I doubt either of you are prepared for staying in Fenspace at the moment, somebody has to take responsibility for you. Since I stomped over your karma, that leaves me." Hank still looked dubious, but his own anger seemed to be dying down. "You...if you'll take Jimmy in, you don't have to take me....I can make it OK." I shook my head. "No...I'm pretty sure your nephew would get upset if something happened to you. And I have the space and can afford to take both of you on for now. So..." I leaned back with a sigh. "First, got to get through the con. The two of you can stay here until the end of it. Better that you don't go out or back to your hotel rooms. It would be best if you seemed to vanish. We can smuggle you out to the Lightning after the con."

I stared at the two of them. "If I unlock the cuffs...are you going to give me any trouble?" The pair glanced at each other...then looked at me. Hank shook his head. "No. We won't fight ya. You're willing to help keep Jimmy alive...I won't do anything to fuck that up." Jimmy swallowed, but nodded in agreement. "I won't give you trouble." I took a deep breath, and nodded slowly. "All right." I got the keys to the cuffs, and let the pair free. I was pretty tense as I did so - I **could** be wrong about them - but...they didn't do anything, just rubbed at their wrists. "OK, then. There's a little food on hand. I'll see about getting some more in here, so you don't have to go out. Then...we'll see where things go after the con." They nodded, and moved to grab their stuff.

Gods....I'd picked up a pair of zwilnik strays. I had to be insane. Well...I suppose they call us mad scientists for a reason. I guess that I could always use some minions...


End file.
